The Devil's Hand
by Haldiriell
Summary: A dark force has moved into the Caribbean, threatening Jack Sparrow's already dubious peace of mind, and the life of Will's young cousin, who's run from trouble back home in England.
1. Prologue

**-Prologue-**

_Port Royal, Jamaica_

_1690_

Pirates loved pillaging and plundering. And raping. This lot wasn't as focused on the latter. Destruction was more their objective, and they were good at it.

Screaming people ran to and fro, chasing by cackling pirates. Buildings were rocked by explosions, both from a pirate armed with explosives, and the cannon balls fired from the menacing ship wreathed in fog in the harbour.

An old woman sat in her small home, above the jewelry shop that she and her son ran. She was huddled at a table at which a single candle burned, seemingly oblivious to the disorder outside. In her withered, spotted hands, the skin dry and papery, she held something gold and glittery.

As her gnarled fingers turned it over, holding it above the tiny flame of the candle, her lips moved soundlessly. Her dark eyes were alert in her lined face, fixed on the pendant. Shaped like a bird, wings outstretched, head to one side, it clutched in its feet a large, perfect black pearl, the size of the woman's thumbnail. The firelight made it glow red, though it was, in fact, more of a blue-green hue. A ruby glittered in the eye of the bird, insignificant next to the pearl.

Outside, flames shot into the sky from a nearby explosion, lighting the room in a blood-hued glow. The old woman smiled, and sat back, her stiff, bony fingers closing around the necklace.

She rose from the table, her joints protesting, and slowly shuffled down the stairs and opened the door onto the street. She inhaled deeply, stepped outside, and screamed at a passing pirate.

The startled pirate turned on her, spotted the necklace in her hand, and reached for it. The old woman threw the necklace at him and rushed inside, slamming the door shut and locking it.

Then she smiled.


	2. Chapter One

**-Chapter One-**

_Port Royal, Jamaica_

_1691_

The Honourable William Turner-blacksmith and future son-in-law of the governor of Jamaica-was not having a good day. And it was only fifteen past ten in the morning.

One of his best customers had reneged on an outstanding bill, leaving Will with a now-useless ornamental sword; the _Black Pearl_ was in port, with white sails and an assumed name; and his dear, sweet, fiancée of four months and seven days had just informed him that she had been thinking, and didn't know if she quite wanted to wait until their wedding night.

He wasn't sure how he would have reacted to this announcement under normal circumstances . . . meaning if she hadn't burst into his workship and loudly announced the fact . . . in the presence of one Captain Jack Sparrow, dread pirate. Or maybe just pirate.

Will paused mid-sentence, blinked, and then flushed a deep, bright red, gaping awkwardly at Elizabeth. He glanced at Jack, who was grinning.

"Not a eunuch, then," was all the pirate said.

Elizabeth stopped, her face slowly turning crimson. "Um. Hello, Jack. How are you?"

"As well as can be expected with the British trying to capture me." Jack bowed, doffing his leather tricorn. "Felicitations on your betrothal, Miss Swann. And Mr. Turner, of course," he added, as an obvious afterthought.

Will rolled his eyes. "Get out of here, you old pirate."

Jack straightened with mock offense. At least, Will thought it was false. Hard to tell with Jack. "Who are you calling old?" he demanded. "Well, since I can see I'm clearly not welcome . . ."

He stalked in a huff towards the doors, stopped just short, and turned. "I just remembered why I'm here," he said.

"You couldn't remember?" Elizabeth asked, surprised, her brown eyes wide with disbelief and a touch of scorn.

"I was distracted by your winsome beauty, Miss Swann. And it wasn't related to gold, not important," Jack said reasonably. Then he frowned. "Or maybe it is."

"Important?" Will guessed.

"Related to gold," Jack replied. "Of course it was important, don't be stupid. Do you honestly think I'd go to all the trouble to change the _Pearl_'s sails so that I could actually come into port on a whim?"

He stopped and thought about that for a moment. "Actually, I might. But not this time."

Will idly picked up a large sword, testing the blade on a piece of leather. It sliced through. Jack got the point and quickly hurried on.

"Here's the thing," he said. "I need a favour."

"What could I possibly do for you?" Will asked slowly. "You've got your ship back, Barbossa's dead."

"Not from you, really. From Elizabeth's father. And her . . . erstwhile former fiancé?"

They just looked at him like he was crazy. Which, come to think of it, he was. But just a little. Depending on who you asked.

"I know, I know, I'm a pirate. And my sworn enemy would be the British government. However . . ." Jack paused. "I'm not the only shark in the water, shall we say? And as much as I hate to admit it . . . this other shark is not only bigger, with requisite bigger teeth . . . but not as nice."

The pirate sighed. "There's a new ship. Been here about two months. It's made three raids on Tortuga in that time. And some of the outlier colonies _not_ under the protection of Fort Charles and the bonny Commodore Norrington. That would include Hispaniola, and Nassau, in the Bahamas. I've had word from some attacks in the colonies. The Spanish ones in Florida."

He straightened and walked over to the donkey, patting the beast's head. "I-"

The door opened and one Mr. Brown, owner of the shop, came shuffling in. The man blinked fuzzily at the shop's current occupants.

"I'd be happy to commission that for you, Mr. Smith," Will said quickly. "But it could take some time."

"Certainly, Mr. Turner." Jack nodded. "I'm in no rush at the moment, so we could, perhaps, meet another time to discuss it?"

"I'd be delighted." Will smiled.

Jack left the shop, attempting to look more grand than he really was. The attempt fell dreadfully short, but Brown was too drunk to notice.

Will turned to his employer, silently wondering why the man wasn't dead yet. "I am going to escort Elizabeth home. We are due to dine with the governor. I will return after that."

Mr. Brown nodded listlessly. He slumped into his chair and began his daily routine of drinking and sleeping, not even noting when Will and Elizabeth took their leave.

In the captain's cabin aboard the _Black Pearl_, Jack leaned back in his chair and propped his boots on the desk. The table, now covered with a dark red tablecloth, had been shoved to one side, to allow room for daily business. One of the crew had brought a chair for Elizabeth to sit on. Will stood behind it, hands braced on the back.

"Where was I?" Jack pondered aloud.

"Hispaniola, Spanish colonies," Elizabeth prompted.

"Ah, yes." Jack sat forward, his feet hitting the floor. "The ship is called _L'Orage de Sang_."

"The _Blood Storm_," Elizabeth translated, mostly for Will since he didn't speak French.

"And a well-deserved name. I've seen it. The _Blood Storm_ doesn't sail with white sails, or black sails. Its sails are literally stained with blood. Sick man, the captain is. I've heard that he has rotting corpses stored in the hold, but never having been aboard, I can't confirm that."

Elizabeth shuddered.

"And that's not the least of it," the pirate continued. "I've heard tell of some of the things he and his crew have done. Evil, mindless things. Or perhaps too much of a mind behind them. Worse than anything Barbossa ever did."

"How so?" Will asked quietly, his voice even and hard.

Jack glanced at Elizabeth, who was looking a little sick to her stomach. "I'd rather not go into it, for her sake. Still a bit too well-mannered there, aye, Lizzie?"

Will nodded, understanding. Apparently, so did Elizabeth. She stood quickly. "I, uh, believe I shall . . . leave you to discuss this?"

Will turned to Jack. "I'll take her home, then return."

The pirate inclined his head. "I'll be here."

Jack stood, and moved around the desk, passing the table. There was a sudden flurry of movement, and Jack jerked backwards, a knife suddenly at his throat.

"Don't move," a female voice said.

Jack obediently froze, rather liking his head where it was.

Will pulled his sword, which he always carried at his side. "Release him!"

No one could see much of Jack's assailant. From what they could tell, she had jumped from beneath the table, grabbed Jack's trailing dark hair, and pulled his head down.

The knife held to his throat was nasty-looking, curved in a design Will had never seen. In a moment of surprising clarity, he saw that twisting designs were carved into the bright metal. He couldn't see much of the handle, held as it was in the woman's right hand, but what he _could_ see was elaborately carved, the pommel in the shape of curving vines. Funny, the things one noticed in times like these.

The woman's muffled voice came from behind the pirate. "Drop the sword and I'll let him go."

"Let him go and I'll drop the sword," Will countered.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "How about this? You both let go on the count of three?"

"Fine," Will said, his teeth gritted.

"Agreed," the hidden woman said.

Elizabeth shook her head. "One . . . two . . . three . . ."

Will's sword hit the floor and the knife disappeared from its resting spot just under Jack's chin. The pirate spun around, grabbing the woman's wrist.

"What have we 'ere, I wonder?" he asked, eyes sweeping over a rather short woman dressed in a worn, wrinkled, and utterly-out-of-place brown, floral embroidered dress. Her hair was long and dark gold, edging a bit into new-polished bronze. She barely reached Jack's chin in the battered, servicable shoes she wore.

"Pretty wench," Jack judged.

Her free hand moved lightning fast and there was a crack as it connected with Jack's cheek. He let her go and stumbled back.

Pointing the blade at him, she demanded, "I know you're a pirate. Tell me where I can find the son of Bootstrap Bill Turner."

Jack blinked.

"Why," he asked, "does it always have t'be someone lookin' for Bill's kid?"

"That would be me," Will said, his foot moving slightly towards his sword.

The woman glanced over at Will, then her sea-blue eyes went wide. "Will!" she exclaimed, and threw herself at him.

Confused, Will caught the small woman as she slammed into him. Fortunately, she'd dropped the dagger, and Jack bent to retrieve it.

"And who is this?" Elizabeth asked, her voice icy.

Will, still completely astonished, pushed the blonde woman away from him and looked at her. "Nicola?"

"I didn't think I'd be able to find you. I didn't know if you were still alive, or if I'd be stuck here completely by myself. Which actually would have been preferable to what I went through before, but still, it's nice to see you again, and I'm so relieved to have found you!" she was babbling.

The younger of the two men she'd assailed was looking at her with huge brown eyes. "Elizabeth," he said. "This is my cousin, Nicola."

His fiancée relaxed immediately, but still looked at the shorter woman with wary interest. "She's not still armed, is she?"

"Not since she dropped this, I think," Jack said, holding up the dagger.

Will pulled Elizabeth forward. "Nicola, this is my betrothed, Elizabeth. Elizabeth, this is my cousin, Miss Nicola Holyfield. I'm assuming just come from England."

"Yes, I've just arrived this morning, on the _Jolly Genesis_. Of course, I wasn't listed on the passenger registry, since I sort of stowed away. I say sort of because it's my father's ship, and they didn't question my presence, since I'd reused the letter from France, but by the time Captain Marchant gets back to England, he's going to figure it out. And I would imagine Father is fairly put out that I've run off . . ."

She trailed off, seeing that everyone was staring at her. She hadn't realised she'd been babbling until then.

"What the bloody hell kind of a name is _Jolly Genesis_?" Jack demanded.

Nicola straightened with indignance. "Genesis happens to be my mother's name, I'll have you know! Of course, Grandfather also named his other children Exodus and Leviticus. And Mary Katherine. That would be Will's mother."

She studied Jack, eyes narrowed. "And who the blazes are you?" she demanded, looking him up and down.

"I'm Captain Jack Sparrow," he said, with his usual aplomb. "And this is me ship, the _Black Pearl_. Surely you've heard of me?"

She gazed at him levelly for several contemplative seconds, then said, "No. Can't say I have."

Jack nearly fell over. "What?"

"I've never heard of you," she repeated. "Should I have?"

The pirate pointed at her. "The bloody captain of that bloody ship did not properly educate you, Miss Holyfield! I am Captain Jack Sparrow, the greatest pirate threat in the Caribbean!"

Nicola raised an eyebrow. "I thought I heard you telling Will that there was a bigger, scarier shark in the waters these days," she said sweetly.

"Nicola," Will said, still feeling as though he'd been hit over the head. "What are you doing here?"

"On the ship? Well, I had to go somewhere, and, well, I thought maybe, since I saw a woman on this ship, perhaps they'd take me on, too, if I couldn't find you." Nicola looked at him with wide, innocent eyes.

"No, I meant in Jamaica. What are you doing in Jamaica? Shouldn't Uncle Leslie have married you off by now?"

She shrugged. With maddening calm, she said, "Well, the options were marrying the local garrison commander, who is, quite frankly, old enough to be our grandfather, burning at the stake, or coming here. I think it should be obvious why I chose the Caribbean over that."

"Burning at the stake?" Elizabeth was appalled. "Why?"

"Because they thought I'm a witch," Nicola said, as if the answer were perfectly obvious.

She looked brightly around the group, unaware that even the daft captain was thinking she was crazy. "Personally, I think the entire partriarchal society of England is highly overrated, and while Jamaica may be run by said British government, there are also pirates here, and as much as those white sails may have fooled the redcoats, it didn't fool me. Only a pirate would sail this ship. Which isn't to impugne your ship, sir," she said quickly. "I am merely saying that it is obviously not a merchant or Navy ship. For one, it's not painted a horrid yellow."

She smiled brilliantly. "Now, you don't mind if I show myself around, do you? I just love ships. Though I'm afraid I'm no good with the rigging."

The trio watched as Nicola walked off, somehow regal in her threadbare dress, her braided hair a golden, frizzy line down her back.

Then Jack remarked, "I can see why they wanted to burn her."

Will ran a hand over his dark head and sighed. "She's insane. I do not recall her being this . . . odd."

"When was the last time you saw her?" Elizabeth inquired.

Will did some quick mental calculations. "Before I left England," he admitted. "Nine or ten years ago."

Jack was still looking in the direction the young woman had gone. There was a speculative gleam in his eye.

"Will," he announced suddenly, "I'm in love with your cousin."

Will frowned. "You've known her five minutes and she tried to kill you."

The pirate grinned. "Yeah, I know. Perfect, isn't she? I must have her."

The younger man glowered. "You so much as lay a finger on Nicola, I'll remove your hands."

"But she's such a pretty wen- lady," Jack hastily amended at the dark look on his friend's face, hands up to ward Will off.

"And she hit you!" Elizabeth exclaimed.

"She's not the first," Jack pointed out.

Will shook his head. "Elizabeth, stay here with Jack. I need to find Nicola."


	3. Chapter Two

**-Chapter Two-**

Will found her fairly quickly, sitting on a barrel, eating a chunk of cheese and chatting with Gibbs.

"You've really never heard of Jack Sparrow?" Gibbs asked incredulously as Will walked up.

"I honestly haven't," Nicola said. She smiled at her cousin. "Hello, Will."

"Nicola. It isn't safe for you to wander around the-"

She cut him off, gesturing at Gibbs. "He's safe enough."

"He's also a crewmember."

"Yes, I know that, cuz," Nicola said. "Why else would he be on the ship?"

Will sighed. "Gibbs, this is my cousin, Miss Nicola Holyfield."

Elizabeth joined them then. Will really hadn't expected her to stay put. She was followed by Jack. The pirate captain had a bulky bag over one shoulder, presumably Nicola's, and the young woman's weapon.

Nicola gave him a cheeky grin. "We've already met. But the gesture is appreciated."

Elizabeth's brown eyes swept over the dishevelled figure before her. "Come back to the manor with me, Nicola, and we'll get you properly-"

"Clothed? Styled? Trained?" Nicola straightened, suddenly seemed undeniably lady-like in spite of her ragtag appearance. "I assure you, Elizabeth, that there is, in fact, nothing wrong with my manners, if I have proper motivation for maintaining social standards. I have, after all, been to the King's Court in Paris, and met Louis himself."

Then she grinned, her blue gaze flicking to the pirate captain. "Of course, I usually find I've less than adequate motivation . . . which is probably one of the reasons I was sentenced to death."

"What did you _do_?" Will demanded.

She just smiled, a small, enigmatic smile that would soon, he was certain, drive him crazy.

Jack was studying the dagger. It was a design he'd seen before, but he couldn't quite place it. _Witchcraft_, he mused silently. It was certainly no ordinary dagger. Jack Sparrow was rarely wrong, and he knew it had ceremonial purpose. That was not in question. What was in question was how Nicola Holyfield had come by it, and how she had been captured and tried for witchcraft.

He looked up to find Nicola staring at him. Wordlessly, he handed it back to her, point towards the floor. One corner of her mouth curled up in acknowledgement of his distrust. "Don't worry, Captain Sparrow. I'm not going to stab you."

His smile match her own, in response to her unspoken "Yet". He handed the bag to Will. "Found this under the table. I am assuming this belongs to the . . . lady."

Will nodded and slung it over his shoulder, then took his cousin by the arm. "Regardless of whether you wish to or not," he told her, "you are coming back to the manor."

"I never said I wasn't. I implied that I will not act like a trained lapdog."

She was still protesting as he dragged her down the gangplank, Elizabeth trailing behind.

Gibbs stood. "Interesting girl."

"Very interesting," Jack murmured.

His first mate studied the captain's reddened cheek. "She slap you?"

"Who hasn't?"

"Good point."

Gibbs moved off, leaving Jack standing on the deck by himself. It was a moment before the pirate stirred.

"Her father's name is _Leslie_?"

* * *

The instant they walked in the door of the governor's mansion, Nicola was swamped by maids who absconded with her person, stripped her, and dumped her in a large copper tub full of hot water. At least, it seemed that way. How they'd prepared so quickly was completely beyond her comprehension. She'd never been able to get the maids to work that fast back home.

"Ouch!" she exclaimed, as Flora, Elizabeth's newest maid, pulled a little too hard on her gold locks. Her hair had been washed, dried, and was now being brushed.

"I'm dreadfully sorry, miss," the maid murmured.

"No," Nicola said to Elizabeth. "I'm not going to wear one. I refuse."

"I'm afraid your garments are being laundered, and you have no choice," Elizabeth sighed. "I detest them just as much as you. However . . ."

Nicola groaned. "I know. Everything I could possibly borrow is in your wardrobe, and every dress you own requires a corset. All right. But only for tonight."

"Certainly," her cousin's fiancee replied. "What do you think, Flora, the peach brocade?"

"Oh, no, mum." The maid shook her head, blonde wisps of her hair peeking out of her kertch. "Best be the wine-coloured silk."

Elizabeth, already garbed in a gold moiré, tapped her fan against her full lips, then nodded. "You're right."

Elizabeth fetched the dress, and spread it out on the bed in the guest room assigned to the younger woman. Nicola's eyes widened at the sight of it.

"Goodness! What's the occasion?" she inquired.

"The commodore is coming to dinner," Elizabeth said, glancing slyly at her new soon-to-be cousin.

"The commodore?"

"Commodore Norrington. He's a very fine man. He heads the garrison at Fort Charles."

Nicola filed this information away for future reference.

Flora finished the touches on her hair, and then found Elizabeth's extra corset, and stuffed Nicola into it.

"I can't breathe," Nicola wheezed.

"The trick is to not breathe too deeply." Elizabeth handed her a fan. "And use this as often as necessary."

With a well-practised flick of her wrist, Nicola snapped it open and instantly began fanning herself. "This contraption was obviously designed by men," she muttered.

Elizabeth laughed. "No doubt. Shall we?"

Will met them on the landing. He smiled at Elizabeth, then his dark brown eyes drifted over to his cousin, pleasantly passed once over her, then bulged abruptly as he let out a choking gasp.

"Is something amiss?" Elizabeth asked, immediately placing her hand on her fiancé's arm.

Will pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and slapped it over his face.

Nicola looked down at her borrowed dress. She didn't see what was wrong. Certainly, the bodice was a trifle low . . .

"Are you actually intending to wear that?" Will demanded, recovering. He kept his eyes on her face, not on her neckline.

Elizabeth scoffed. "William Turner! There is nothing wrong with this dress. I wore it just last week, and you didn't object."

Her fiance gestured at Nicola's bodice. "No offense, darling, but . . . but . . . Pardon me if this is . . . coarse, but . . . Your _proportions_, dearest, are not the same?"

Elizabeth looked at Nicola very hard, noticing for the first time just how much rounded flesh protruded above the gold-lace trimmed neckline. "Oh, for heaven's sake!"

Nicola opened her fan and placed it over the rather abundant cleavage on display. "Shall I go about like this all evening, cuz? I could get a cramp in my wrist, but if it makes you feel more comfortable . . ."

The other woman rolled her eyes. She signalled to Flora, who had followed them down the stairs. "Would you bring us a kerchief? Something that will go with this dress."

"Yes, mum."

"Really, this is nothing compared to London fashion," Nicola insisted. "This would be quite modest for an evening gown. And let's not even discuss Paris!"

"We're not in London, _cuz_," Will gritted. "And I do not want Commodore Norrington to drop his eyeballs down your dress!"

"Oh, posh. They can't, they're attached. And if they are not, he should hardly be Commodore, should he?"

Nicola twitched her fan, and without waiting for Flora, swept off, spine straight, into the drawing room.

* * *

Dinner wasn't _quite_ a disaster. The Commodore was stiff with Will and Elizabeth, and it was immediately apparent to Nicola that something had occured between the trio to cause the uncomfortable silences.

Governor Swann was rather taken with Nicola, and asked her of the happenings in England. She informed them that William II was continuing the occupation of Ireland, and the Jacobites in Scotland continued to stay quelled. She casually mentioned that she had lost a sibling, Peter, in one of the battles, at Dunkeld.

Will only had vague memories of Peter, as Peter had been four years younger than himself, and would only have been eight when Will left England.

Elizabeth asked about Nicola's other siblings. It turned out that seven Holyfield children remained; Nicola was the eldest, and she had four sisters and two brothers.

James Norrington, Nicola found, was a handsome, distinguished man of about thirty-five, who could be witty when he wasn't sulking. It was obvious that Elizabeth had been hoping to foist Norrington's attentions off on Nicola, but the man was a little too sullen to pay much attention to Nicola's charms.

Not that Will's cousin was interested in the commodore. She tried not to fidget, already plotting to follow Will when he went back to speak to Sparrow. Now _there_ was an interesting fellow. Rather below her, but certain to be entertaining.

Elizabeth casually mentioned that she'd overheard someone in town mention a pirate ship called the _Blood Storm_, but the commodore barely seemed to hear her. He paid attention to her words, at least, but all he wanted to discuss in the way of pirates was "Sparrow, that shameless reprobate".

At last, the dinner ended. Norrington didn't linger, as he had to return to the garrison. Nicola retired to the guest room the servants had made up for her, and found that several pretty and servicable gowns of Elizabeth's-likely ones that were out of fashion-had been hung in the armoire in the room.

"I don't think I've ever had hand-me-downs," Nicola mused to herself, when Flora had left at last.

She rummaged through the bag she'd brought with her from England, and pulled out trousers and a shirt, which she changed into quickly. Nicola slipped into the coat that went with the trousers, not bothering to bind her breasts; there was no point in really trying that. This disguise would only work to keep immediate notice at bay.

Will was just leaving, as she went to the window. He declined an offer of a carriage, and set off on foot. Good; it would be much easier to follow him.

She carefully opened the window and stepped out onto the sill. Her window was close to the corner of the house. Some deft wiggling, and she was able to clamber down the quoining. She lost her footing five feet from the ground and fell, landing with a painful thump in the bushes.

Nicola rubbed her offended posterior, grateful nothing else had been injured. She hadn't been lying when she'd said she was no good with the rigging. She was terribly afraid of heights.

She snuck at a reasonable distance after Will, hand tight around the grip of her dagger. Fortunately, her leather-soled shoes were fairly noiseless on the cobblestones, and it meant she could get closer.

He rounded a corner, and she darted after him, only to turn it and find . . . no one there.

Oh, lovely. Where had he gone?

Nicola briefly considered calling for him, but she'd been hiding from him for a _reason_. She huffed out a breath and bit her lip, not entirely sure what to do. She could make her way down to the docks by herself, but that was an extremely stupid idea.

A hand came down on her shoulder and she stifled a shriek, whirling with her dagger aimed to make contact with her attacker.

Will danced out of the way and levelled a glare at her. "_What_ are you doing?!" he demanded.

"Following you!" she said. "Obviously!"

"Yes, but _why_?"

"Because I need to talk to you. And Captain Sparrow."

Her cousin eyed her for a long moment, weighing his options. It was apparent that if he took her back to the house, she wasn't likely to _stay_ there, and he would be late for his meeting with Jack. They were more than halfway to the docks, now, as it was.

"Fine," he sighed. "But then I'm taking you back to Elizabeth's and you'll _stay_ there."

She offered no argument, meekly falling into step beside him. "I'm sorry," she said. "I would have asked, but I'm sure you would have said no."

"You're right, I would have."

They made their way to the _Pearl_, where they were greeted by a very short man in a vest.

"We're here to see Jack, Marty," Will said, taking hold of Nicola's arm.

"Cap'n's waitin' for you," the dwarf said, manner mild but eyes intent on Nicola.

They went up the gangplank and Nicola followed Will to the captain's cabin. She hadn't paid it much attention the first time she'd been here, more intent on finding a quick hiding place. It was an . . . interesting environment, definitely masculine, but disorganised, something she attributed to Sparrow's apparent nature.

"What's she doing here?" Jack asked in surprise when they walked in.

"She followed me," Will said.

Nicola rolled her eyes and wrenched her arm free of Will's grasp. "I came because I need to talk to you."

Jack's dark eyes narrowed. "Concerning what, precisely?"

Nicola pulled out her dagger and placed it on the map in front of him. "Giacomo Pantaleone Ulisse Damiano Roccelli, or, as he's known in the French court, the Devil's Hand. He's also my former intended."


	4. Chapter Three

**-Chapter Three-**

Both men gaped at her. Will made a few abortive attempts at speaking before he managed, "What?"

Nicola sighed and perched on one of the chairs nearby. "I told you I've been to the French court. The fact of the matter is . . . I rejected all of my suitors in England and Father . . . is rather desperate to get me off his hands, as Mum insists that my younger sisters cannot wed until I am. She still resents your mother marrying before she did, and four years younger, to boot."

She tapped her fingers on the arm of the chair, which was an elaborate and heavy thing. "My sister Catherine has a serious suitor, a young Lord by the name of Alexander. Since Father wants us both off his hands, he took me to France to see if he could get me a French husband.

"While I was there . . . I met Giacomo."

Jack picked up the blade and examined it. That was why it looked familiar, in a way. It was very expensive Italian steel. "And this bugger . . . what? I mean, besides decided to come into my territory?"

She stood and went over to the windows, hands behind her back. "At first, I was very flattered. He's a strikingly handsome man, with good manners and with quite a bit of money. But . . . the more time I spent with him, the more uneasy I became. There were whispers about him in the salons. I'd like to think I'm an intelligent woman, I know that men tend to stray. But the stories I overheard from women were . . . increasingly disconcerting."

Nicola glanced at Will. "They call him the Devil's Hand. At first, I thought it was merely because he had a reputation as a rakehell that I did not learn until after he'd begun courting me. But it didn't come from that."

Jack's dark eyes followed her as she paced the cabin. "Cabbalistic magick, then?" he asked.

Her eyes, blue with an edge of green, darted his way. "To start with. At first, I thought it was nonsense. Until I stumbled into something one night, and he . . . I saw him sacrifice a young woman on an altar. She bore something of a resemblance to me. I told Father immediately, and he sent me on the next ship back to England. Roccelli followed me, because he knew I'd seen. The next thing I knew, I was being arrested for witchcraft."

Will frowned. "But _why_?"

"I'm not entirely certain. I know he was angry that Father had broken the betrothal. I still cannot believe I agreed to his proposal. He came to see me, demanded that I return with him. I refused. The next morning, I was arrested. I . . . managed to escape after promising to wed the garrison commander, who is on the older side and was in need of a wife. He said he could make the charges go away if I agreed to marry him. Since they were going to execute me in a week, I was rather desperate, as you can imagine."

She looked between the men, from Will's angry, concerned face, to Jack's shuttered, non-committal expression. "I knocked him unconcious, snuck home and packed a bag, and used the letter Father gave me for passage from France to convince Captain Marchant he was to bring me to the Caribbean. This was the only place I could think to come. No one knows me here, except you, Will. I could start over, however I needed to do that."

Nicola clasped her hands and sank back into the chair she'd vacated. She gazed at Jack steadily. "And then I hid here, snuck aboard after I saw the other woman, the dark one-"

"Annamaria?" Jack asked.

"I have no idea. I saw her aboard and thought perhaps I could hide here. I didn't want Captain Marchant to realise there wasn't anyone waiting for me. I hid in here, since I figured the crew wouldn't come barging into the captain's cabin. Then you came in, and you started discussing Roccelli . . ."

Will crouched by her chair. "You need not worry, Nicola. You're safe here."

"Am I?" she asked. Her face was a little bleak. "There's no hiding from Roccelli."

Jack pushed a bottle of rum across the desk towards her. "Drink that, you'll feel better."

"Thank you, but no." She gave Will a weak smile. "I'm hoping he doesn't learn that I'm here. What Captain Sparrow described, of his ship? That's only part of what he's capable of. I can only imagine-"

She swallowed, hard. "He's had two hundred years on this world. I can only imagine what he's done during them."

* * *

Jack accompanied Will when he escorted Nicola home. The two men spoke in hushed voices as they headed back through town.

"You believe her, mate? 'Bout ol' Roccelli bein' two centuries old?" Jack asked.

"If you'd asked me a few months ago if I believed in anything . . . supernatural, I'd have said no," Will replied. "After what I saw with Barbossa and his men, I can't deny that it's possible."

The pirate rolled his shoulders and came to a skidding stop on the street. "There's real fear in the gel, young William. That, at least, is the truth. Right now, our wants coincide."

Will nodded. "They do. You wish to get rid of Roccelli, and I wish to protect my cousin."

He sighed and gestured for Jack to follow him into the blacksmith shop. He locked the door behind them and retrieved some bread and cheese from his somewhat meagre stash, setting them out on the table.

"I spoke with Norrington. He's not interested in any pirate but you. I'm afraid that we are on our own with this."

Jack wrinkled his nose and sighed. "Aye, that was my thinking. But we make a good team, you and I, do we not? Odd as it is. Can you take leave of your pretty Lizzie long enough to assist me in hunting Roccelli down and sinking his monstrosity?"

Will nodded. "I should be able to, yes."

"I'll send Annamaria to see if she can find us any allies. She's been wanting off the crew, anyway. I suppose we'll have to take the girl with us, keep a weather eye on her and all that."

Jack finished off the chunk of cheese he'd taken, thanking Will with a toast-like gesture. "This time tomorrow night, at the _Pearl_, aye? Then we go after 'im."

* * *

Will's morning started off on a less-than-auspicious turn. When his employer didn't show up by noon, Will went over to wake him, and found the man in an old armchair, bottle in hand, lifeless as his surroundings.

Fortunately, there were no signs of foul play and everyone knew that Brown was going to drink himself into an early grave. The man had left the shop to Will, which the young man reflected was rather helpful timing, since it freed him to go with Jack and Nicola after Roccelli.

Dealing with Elizabeth was another matter.

"I want to go, too!" she said, as soon as she heard their plans.

Weatherby Swann immediately vetoed her going. "Let him take care of his family business, Elizabeth. Besides, you have wedding plans to see to, don't you?"

Will would have cherished the time spent with his fiancée away from her father, but he didn't want to endanger her. The _only_ reasons Nicola was going were because she knew the man they were after, and Will didn't want to leave her in Port Royal unattended and unprotected.

That afternoon, Will took Nicola to a local seamstress to see if there were any clothes the woman had already made that would fit her, since she couldn't go galavanting around the Caribbean in Elizabeth's expensive dresses.

The seamstress didn't have much, a skirt or two and an extra blouse and chemise. It was enough for Nicola, who paid for the purchases with a silver coin out of her stash.

"I do not know how long this will take," Will warned his cousin, after they'd bid Elizabeth and her father farewell. "But chances are good that we will be existing on rum and hard tack for the next few days."

"The rum, I don't doubt," she said dryly. "But I'm sure Captain Sparrow will have more food than that aboard. His crew isn't large enough to warrant cheaper supplies. But I can endure, I'm not some pampered little pet who can't function without her morning cup of cocoa."

She didn't figure that Jack Sparrow was the kind of man who would graciously give his cabin over for a female passenger, and she was right. He kicked Gibbs out of the first mate's cabin. The older man was good-natured about it, even if a bit skeptical about having a woman on board.

With her things tucked in her temporary quarters, Nicola set to exploring the ship, even though it was past midnight. There was little she loved more than to be at the prow of the ship when the sails first caught the wind and a ship leapt forward across the water. Leaning on the rail, Nicola watched as the sails unfurled and rippled as the breeze filled them.

Behind her, she heard Gibbs barking orders to the crew. Here in the bay, the quarter-moon reflected on the water, and the few houses with occupants still up had dim light shining from their windows.

Out across the water, though, a storm was moving in, and there would soon be no light. Nicola didn't like the thought of facing what lurked out there in the darkness. So, instead of dwelling on it, she closed her eyes and let the wind rush past her as the _Black Pearl_ picked up speed.

"Enjoying yourself?"

She jumped a foot, not having heard Jack's approach. "Ah! Uh. Captain Sparrow."

He grinned, flashing more than one gold tooth. "Scaring you was not my intention, love. Much."

She rolled her eyes and went back to looking at the sea. "Then what, precisely _was_ your intention?"

Jack stepped around the smaller mast and put himself in her line of sight. "I wished to inquire how you found my ship. I see you took your onesies on a tour. I could . . . give you a better one, aye?"

Nicola fought to keep from smiling and swept her eyes over him, feeling a little silly for fluttering her lashes flirtatiously. "I'm sure you could, being the captain. Though I must say, you are the most . . . visually interesting captain I've ever met."

He looked down at himself. "Aye?"

"What is that in your hair?" she asked, gesturing to the white stick-like thing hanging from under his hat.

Jack lifted a hand to it. "Either a reindeer bone needle or a corset stay. Can't remember which, rightly."

She raised an eyebrow. "And I'm willing to guess that either one would have an interesting story to tell."

"Oh, they would at that," he said.

"Mmm."

"Nicola."

They both looked to see Will standing a few feet away, a scowl on his face.

"Ah, William!" Jack said, completely unperturbed at being caught out. "Lovely evening, isn't it?"

Nicola excused herself, not wanting to be present for the show of manliness that was about to occur. This left Jack and Will alone on the forecastle.

"I told you to stay away from her," Will said.

"Ah, if I recall correctly, you said no touching her. And if _you'll_ recall, there was, in fact, no _touching_ going on."

Will shook his head. "I'm sending her back to England after this is done, Jack. It would be best if you didn't wreck her chances there."

The pirate raised both hands. "No touching, mate. Really, I pity your young when you have any."

"And why is that?" Will asked, knowing Jack would probably tell him anyway.

"Your daughters will be bloody _miserable_."


	5. Chapter Four

**-Chapter Four-**

_Tortuga_

They sailed to Tortuga to pick up word of the _Blood Storm_. Nicola was fascinated by an island populated entirely by pirates, though she made sure to stick close to Will and Jack, recognising that not all pirates, in fact most, were not as nice as the captain of the _Black Pearl_ or his crew.

The trio and first mate, Gibbs, went to the Faithful Bride tavern. It was apparently a favourite of Jack's.

"How good are you with a sword?" Jack asked Nicola as they found a table.

"Terrible," she admitted. "But Father taught me and all of my siblings to use a pistol and a rifle, though of my sisters, only Catherine is remotely interested in the weapons. Father took me hunting with the boys frequently, so that I know how to use them quite well."

He eyed her, somewhat askance. "Really." Turning to Will, he said, "When we get back to the _Pearl_, teach her to use a blade, savvy? And for now, keep an eye on the wench, would you?"

Then the captain rounded on Gibbs. "Joshamee, ask around about our quarry."

"Aye aye, Cap'n."

"What are _you_ going to do?" Will asked, as Jack pushed away from the table.

"I'm going to find me a drink."

Will and Nicola sat for a bit at the table, watching the chaos around them. Will was not happy that Nicola looked so enthralled with the proceedings.

"You don't need to protect me from Jack," she said after a minute or two.

"Yes, I do!" her cousin immediately snapped. "He's a scoundrel."

"No worse than the men back in England, just more honest about it," she retorted. "Besides, I'm nineteen and almost firmly a spinster. I have been courted by my share of men. I know how to ward them off if I choose."

He was quiet for a long moment, brown eyes watching her contemplatively. "You didn't ward off Roccelli."

She sighed. "I let him fool me. He said that if I married him, he'd make sure that Eleanor would be able to study painting in Italy as she desperately wants to."

"And do you _choose_ to ward off Jack?"

She shrugged. "He's entertaining. I'm not blind, Will. I am aware that he is a pirate and I am the granddaughter of an earl. He's a diversion, that's all."

Her cousin sat back in his chair, somewhat mollified by her words. He got a far-off expression, and Nicola knew without asking that he was thinking of Elizabeth.

"She's very nice," she offered.

"Who?" Will shook himself from his reverie.

"Elizabeth. She's very nice, and pretty. How did you meet?"

Will's whole face transformed from dour and disapproving to ridiculously happy in the space of an instant. "She saved my life. The ship I was on, travelling from England to find my father, was attacked by pirates. I was the sole survivor. Elizabeth and her father were on a British vessel bound for Jamaica, and she spotted me in the water. We've been . . . friends ever since, though really, I've loved her since that day."

He snorted. "She would likely be married to Norrington now if not for Jack."

"Hmm." Nicola pondered that for a moment. "I think I'll go find a bite to eat. They should have something, since it's a tavern."

She made her way to the bar, where she found that they did, indeed, serve food. It was simple fare, a slab of bread and a bowl of stew, but she didn't mind. She ordered a mug of mead to go with it.

Nicola was just laying down the copper coins to pay for it when an arm snaked around her waist and she found hself yanked against a very portly fellow who reeked of a sty.

"'Ere, luvvie, don't think I've seen ye 'round afore. Give ol' Hugh a kiss, now."

She instantly lamented being petite, and wearing a skirt, because "ol' Hugh" had her pinned quite firmly between himself and the bar, and she couldn't reach her knife. He had a face full of salt-and-pepper whiskers, and very few teeth left in his mouth.

"Let go of me, you pox-ridden goat herder!" she squawked, kicking vigorously at his shins.

Hugh wasn't at all fazed, and he tried to kiss her. Nicola ducked her head, shrieking, "Will!"

There was a click, loud in the silence that followed her outburst as most heads nearby turned to see what was going on.

"I suggest, mate, if you want to be keeping your faculties, such as they are, you'll do as the lady requests."

Hugh froze, and Nicola raised her gaze to see Jack Sparrow standing behind the man, cocked pistol pressed to the back of Hugh's head.

"She's mine, Sparrow, I found 'er first!" Hugh protested.

A moment later, a sword appeared at Hugh's throat, grip in Will's hand. "If you do not release her this instant, I will split you nose to loins. _Slowly_."

Hugh couldn't let go of Nicola fast enough. The pig-in-men's-clothes stumbled back, and Jack neatly evaded his bulk, without spilling the mug in his other hand.

Will didn't bother watching him go. "Are you alright?" he asked Nicola, who looked shaken.

"I've been better," she admitted. She swallowed and said, "Thank you both. I believe I need a more obvious weapon."

Will pressed her bowl into her hands and guided her back to their table, holding her drink with the hand not wrapped around her shoulders. "Yes, you do. Preferably a pistol."

Jack placed the pistol he'd just threatened Hugh with on the table in front of her. "Here. I just won that in a ridiculous game of cards."

She blinked at him with big, blue eyes. "Really?"

He gestured to his own weapons. "I've already got mine."

Nicola picked up the pistol. It was fairly small, of a good size for her hand. The barrel and butt were elaborately decorated with a baroque floral motif, that continued in the carved ivory handle.

"It's beautiful, thank you," she said, and smiled.

Jack grinned. "I saw it and thought of you. Small, pretty, rather deadly."

Will shot the pirate a dark look, which Jack blithely ignored.

"Now I just need a belt," Nicola said, also ignoring her cousin.

Gibbs returned about then, looking grim. "He's been spotted near Barbados," he said without preamble, dropping into a chair next to Jack.

The captain nodded. "Then we'll head that way. As soon as I finish me drink."

Nicola hid her smile by taking a bit of her stew.

* * *

On the way to Barbados, Nicola familiarised herself with the _Black Pearl_. She showed obvious scarring from battles, but Nicola thought the ship was beautiful. The _Pearl_ wasn't a large ship, only a hundred feet or so bow to stern, with roughly seventy feet of deck length, perhaps twenty more on the mast, and she only boasted a crew of twelve, captain included. That wasn't too bad, in Nicola's estimation; most of the ships her father owned were of an equivalent size.

Since the crew was so small, it wasn't difficult for her to find a spot out of the way on the aft deck, by the rear wall under the tall lanterns that graced the stern. When she sat on the deck with her book, in the shade, the only person on that deck was the captain. He stood at the wheel, one hand lazily guiding the ship that it was obvious he adored. In his other hand, he held a compass, but he had no map to consult. Gibbs had that down on the main deck, where he occasionally barked orders to the crew.

Nicola thought it odd, but not overly so, that Jack used only a compass. Some sailors, she'd long since noted, had strange affinities for navigation.

"What are you reading?"

She didn't bother looking up from her book. "Milton."

Jack strained to see the book, but couldn't exactly leave his position. "What's Milton?"

"Milton is the author. It's an epic poem, about the Fall."

He frowned. "Fall of what?"

Nicola ducked her head to hide her smirk. It wasn't good, she thought, that he made her smile so much. And that he'd given her a gift that meant more to her than any of the jewels her suitors in England had bestowed on her. "The fall of Adam and Eve, Captain Sparrow, and the introduction of sin into the world. I've already read it, but it's such a rich and dense work that I pick up something new each time."

She looked up to find him frowning at her, looking puzzled. "Is something wrong, Captain Sparrow?"

"You're reading _poetry_ on a _pirate ship_."

At that, she laughed. "It's not _poetry_, exactly. Here, listen.

"'_Into this wild Abyss,_  
_ The womb of Nature, and perhaps her grave,_  
_ Of neither sea, nor shore, or air, nor fire,_  
_ But all these in their pregnant causes mixed_  
_ Confusedly, and which thus must ever fight,_  
_ Unless th' Almighty Maker them ordain_  
_ His dark materials to create more worlds-_  
_ Into this Abyss the wary Fiend_  
_ Stood on the brink of Hell and looked a while_  
_ Pondering his voyage; for no narrow frith_  
_ He had to cross_'."

Jack raised an eyebrow. "You're right, love, that isn't poetry. And not at all the kind of thing I'd expect you to be reading, that is certain."

"What would you expect?" she asked, with an arched brow of her own.

He took a moment to adjust the ship's course, then looked back at her. "I don't know, something . . . female and full of frippery. Something French."

She shuddered. "Only if absolutely desperate for entertainment."

Jack eyed her speculatively. "And what, besides reading, do you do for entertainment?"

Nicola shrugged. "The usual feminine pursuits foisted upon us: needlework, watercolours, discussing fashion until I feel my brain would rot and seep out my ears. Don't get me wrong, I love a well-turned heel, but there is only so much of taffeta versus moire discussion that I can take without wanting to throw myself off a balconey."

Gibbs came up and interrupted to ask Jack a question. She went back to reading her book while they spoke.

"The fall of Adam and Eve, is it?" Jack had left his position at the wheel, Cotton taking over, and now he stood over her.

"Mmm, yes. The temptation of Eve, specifically, and the exodus from the Garden of Eden." She turned the page.

There was a long silence. Finally, she looked up to find him squinting at her.

"What?" she asked cautiously.

He rolled his shoulders. "'Tis interesting," he said at length. "I admit I'm not all that familiar wif' the tale. My father isn't much for religion, and my mum, well . . . She's Hindu, so I was mostly raised with that, aye?"

Nicola closed the book, keeping a finger in to mark her place. A closer study made her realise his skin tone was not entirely from the sun. It also explained the dark hair and those stunning eyes. _Oh, bother_, she thought. "Would it be far off the mark to suppose your father was a member of the East India Trading Company, then?" she asked.

"It wouldn't," he said. "But he's, ah, got other occupations these days."

"What does he think of _your_ occupation?" she inquired.

Jack gave her a crooked, gold-filled grin. "He's a pirate himself, love. What do you think?"

He went to leave, paused, rotated on one bootheel and nearly fell over. "Truth be told, though, he scares the daylights out of me."

Then he was gone, leaving Nicola frowning in consternation after him.

* * *

_Barbados_

Barbados was a golden isle surrounded by tropical blue-green waters that Jack made occasion to remark looked like Nicola's eyes, to which Will snorted derisively. Nicola privately thought that her eyes weren't nearly so green, just a hint around the edge and a bit of brownish-gold in the middle around the iris, not the brilliant blue of her sister Catherine's that she'd always envied. In fact, Nicola thought her eyes were quite muddy that way, but if Jack wanted to pay her a compliment, she wasn't going to refuse.

It took a bit to find someone who knew of the _Blood Storm_, and after an afternoon of asking around, they discovered that their quarry hadn't been seen at the island for three or four days.

"I feel we're on a goose-chase," Nicola said, as they headed back to the _Pearl_.

"We'll find 'im," Jack said. His hand lightly patted the compass that hung at his hip. "Eventually."

"That's encouraging," Will said darkly.

Nicola poked him in the ribs, which earned her a scowl. "Now what are we to do?" she asked the men at large. "Sail from island to island and hope we stumble over him?"

Jack shrugged. "Works for me. Let's make port here for a day or two, see if any word comes in."

"I have no objections," she said. "Will?"

His only answer was to insert himself between his cousin and the pirate and grit his teeth.


	6. Chapter Five

**-Chapter Five-**

Somehow, Jack got them invited to what he referred to as a soirée, but turned out to mostly be a gathering of islanders and the less-fortunate colonists, with drums, guitars, and a huge bonfire on the beach. The island, like many others, was under British rule, but not with quite as obvious a presence as on Jamaica. At least, not in this area, where Caribs and colonists cavorted in drunken glee around the fire.

It took a bit of coaxing, but Jack managed to talk Nicola out of her shoes and dragged her over to the fire. Once there, he pressed a tumbler of sangria into her hand and said, "Here, try this."

She took a sip, made a moue of surprise. "Captain Sparrow, are you attempting to get me inebriated?"

"The thought crossed my mind," he said silkily. "But I prefer _sloshed_."

Nicola laughed. "You're certainly the most . . . _interesting_ man I've ever met."

She took another sip, and another, and before she knew it, she was more than slightly tipsy. Nicola had never been one for imbibing of spirits, beyond social niceties, so it was an understatement to say she didn't handle it well. One cup of sangria and she was spinning around in circles by the fire, while Jack clapped his hands in time to the drums and Will, as usual, glowered.

The young woman found herself dancing in the sand to the music, sangria in one hand, Jack's hand in the other. She didn't know where Will went, and didn't much care at the moment, because she was having fun.

Nicola tripped over someone's discarded shoe and stumbled, giggling when Jack caught her, saving her from toppling into the bonfire. She let out a laugh when they fell to their knees. The pirate captain plucked the drink from her hand and downed the rest of its contents before tossing the wooden cup aside.

"That was mine," she protested, frowning petulantly up at him.

Jack flashed her a grin, then the look sobered and his gaze fell to her lips. Her breath caught in response, and all at once, he was kissing her, his fingers gripping her hair.

She wondered for a moment if she hadn't fallen into the fire after all, the way heat suddenly consumed her. Nicola's hands curled in the front of his shirt and she forgot everything save his mouth on hers. His hands slid from her hair and down her back, pulling her closer.

She'd been kissed before, but never had she felt anything like this. It wasn't prim and proper, it was hungry and possessive and if she'd been a bit more sober, she probably would have felt a little ashamed at her response.

Will's voice called from somewhere nearby, and it was only that which broke them apart. Nicola looked down, hand going to her swollen lips as Jack cleared his throat. He clambered to his feet and offered her a hand up, so that they were both standing when Will found them a minute later.

Fortunately, the night and the flickering, unsteady light from the bonfire masked her rumpled appearance, and Will barely even looked her over before he spoke.

"There's been a sighting of the _Blood Storm_," he said. "Near Aruba. It attacked a beach settlement there, then headed north."

The chill that ran through them at Will's words effectively cooled heated blood enough to douse any lingering passion Jack or Nicola might have felt at that moment. She looked to Jack as the pirate said, "Well, then. Let's gather the crew and be off."

* * *

Back on the _Pearl_, Nicola restlessly paced the deck as the crew prepared the ship to set sail. She was completely rattled from having kissed Jack, and bewildered by how she flushed every time she thought of him.

At the bow of the ship, she leaned on the railing and let the light spray off the sea cool her cheeks. She tried to tell herself it was the sangria that had been responsible, but if she were honest, it had only given them a nudge.

"Nicola?"

Turning at the sound of her cousin's voice, she forced herself to assume a neutral expression. "Yes?"

"Are you alright?" he asked. "You've seemed . . . unwell since we left Barbados."

Nicola waved a hand. "Too much sangria," she said. "I'll be fine."

His brow furrowed, dark eyes studying her. "If you're certain."

"I am, I am. Not to worry, Will. Hasn't even affected my sea legs." She gave him a brilliant smile.

That smile faltered a bit when Jack appeared at the top of the stairs leading down to the little area the cousins stood in. He held a lamp in one hand.

"Best be turning in," he said. "Lights out soon as we've cleared the bay."

"Right." Will offered Nicola his arm, which she took.

She was aware, with every step she took away, of Jack's gaze on her back.

* * *

_Aruba_

Will hovered. Constantly, he hovered wherever Nicola was, as if he suspected that something had passed between his young cousin and the ship's captain. He never _said_ anything, but he never let the two of them alone.

She was a little grateful for it, actually, because she still hadn't sorted out her feelings for the pirate, and was a little afraid of what might happen if the two of them _were_ left by themselves for a significant stretch of time.

Jack seemed his usual, unflappable self, humming as he steered the ship towards the island of Aruba. The only thing that seemed off about him was that he consulted his maps more than he did usually, and his compass hung unused at his hip. He'd flipped it open earlier, frowned at it, then snapped it closed with a grunt and a dark look towards where Nicola and Will consulted sheets of parchment strewn over the deck.

They arrived at the island and made inquiries at the dock, to learn that the _Blood Storm_ had made another attack there the night before. The news pleased Jack, telling him that their quarry was still in the general area.

The crew made port at Aruba that night, staying on the ship because there weren't really suitable accommodations on shore. That seemed to suit everyone fine, as one look at the dismal little Dutch colony had made crew berths seem luxurious.

Jack was at his desk in his cabin, maps and a bottle of rum on its surface, when Will knocked and then stuck his head in.

"A word?" the younger man asked.

The captain wagged his fingers, not looking up from where he was taking notes in his log. Will saw that the pirate had surprisingly clean handwriting, the quill moving smoothly and evenly over the surface of the page.

"What is it, young William?" Jack inquired finally, when Will didn't speak.

"My cousin," he began, then paused. "Nicola is- I mean, she-"

The other man looked up then, one dark brow arched. "She what, man?"

Will sighed. "She seems quite taken with you," he said at last. "And I don't want her hurt, Jack."

Jack was quiet for a long moment. He tapped the feathered end of his quill on his book, then took a swig of rum. "Aye. I'm not precisely oblivious on that account."

"You _do_ remember what I said, don't you?"

"T'keep me filthy hands off 'er? I remember." Jack squinted in the lamplight. He wasn't exactly sure what to tell Will. So far, it had just been a kiss, but even that much, he wasn't going to own up to.

"If I say something, she'll only become more stubborn," Will continued. "But if _you_ discouraged her . . ."

Jack was saved from having to respond by the sound of cannonfire and shouting outside. He dropped his quill and grabbed up his hat. The two men burst out of the cabin to see the start of a battle as men from another ship swung on ropes onto the Pearl's deck.

The captain pulled out his pistol and fired at one of the boarders. The man dropped to the deck, a neat hole between his eyes.

"Lookit what we found," Jack said, nodding his head towards the other, larger ship.

They'd found the _Blood Storm_. Or, rather, it had found them.


	7. Chapter Six

**-Chapter Six-**

The battle didn't last very long. Between them, Jack and Will managed to kill several of Roccelli's men, but within minutes, one of the _Black Pearl_'s masts was down, the ship had a large hole in her side above the water line, and the _Blood Storm_ was off to the horizon.

Jack dropped his arm to his side, the barrel of his pistol smoking, and looked to Gibbs as his first mate found him. "Report, Mr. Gibbs."

"No crew loss on our side," the portly sailor said. "Couple of 'em are out, but no one's dead. Don't think they had it in mind t'kill us, Captain."

"No," Jack agreed, "I don't think they did. They had us outgunned and they didn't sink us. Why?"

Will didn't much care. "I'm going to check on Nicola. That probably frightened her."

He thumped down the stairs, calling, "Nicola!"

She didn't answer, and when he got to her cabin, he found one of Roccelli's men lying dead on the floor, Nicola's dagger buried in his chest. But his cousin wasn't there, just one of her shoes. Stark fear propelled him back down the corridor.

Will nearly tripped coming back up the stairs from belowdeck. "She's gone!" he gasped out. "Jack, they took Nicola."

* * *

_Tortuga_

They had to sail back to Tortuga for repairs. It was slow going due to the damage, and Will spent nearly the entire trip seething and pounding the rails, shouting about how they had to find his cousin.

Jack wasn't much pleased, either, that the beautiful young woman had been taken. He could admit to himself that he found her very attractive, and she was entertaining. She didn't deserve whatever Roccelli was going to do to her.

"We'll find her," he promised Will. "Might take a bit, but we will. Repairs should be done in a day or two."

"A day or two?!" Will exploded. "That's not good enough!"

"Look. Roccelli wants the chit. I don't think he's going to hurt her." _Not yet, anyway_, he mentally amended. "We'll track him down an' get her back. Maybe she'll have driven him insane by then, too."

Will made a frustrated noise and stomped off. Jack took a sip of rum and muttered, "She certainly drives _me_ crazy."

* * *

Nicola woke to near darkness. Her head pounded, and when she raised her hand to the source, she found her hair matted with dried blood. The last thing she remembered was that man running into her cabin, and her stabbing him with her dagger. Then everything had gone black.

Groaning, she sat up and found that she wasn't restrained. She'd been lying on a bed in what appeared to be a ship's cabin, but it certainly wasn't the _Pearl_. With her skull throbbing as it did, she couldn't make much sense of where she was.

"You're awake at last," a voice said by the door, and instantly, Nicola wished she hadn't regained consciousness.

Giacomo Roccelli leaned in the doorway, his white linen shirt open to his waist and tucked into tight black breeches. He was as devilishly handsome as ever, his olive skin tanned and his body muscled, dark hair pulled back at the nape of his neck. Black leather boots came up over his knees. His blue eyes were startlingly light in that burnished complexion.

He set a candle on his desk, the light not doing a lot to relieve the oppressing shadows. Nicola blinked, though, the flickering flame hurting her eyes.

"What, no thank you for rescuing you from those pirates?" he asked mildly, at her stunned silence. He smiled beatifically, likely convinced he actually _had_ rescued her.

Mutely, Nicola narrowed her eyes and glared at him.

"I've done you a favour, you know. Pirates are notorious for ravishing innocent maidens." He approached and reached out a hand, touching her hair.

She jerked back and spat at him. Still smiling, Roccelli drew back a hand and slapped her. Nicola fell over, stars swimming before her eyes. She gagged from the wave of nausea that accompanied the celestial lightshow.

"Really, _cucciola mia_, is that any way to treat me, your fiance?" Roccelli tilted his head and adopted a forlorn expression. "Then again, I'm not your only intended, am I? That garrison commander in England is probably still pining for you. And yes, I know about that. I know everything about you, Nicola."

_Not everything_, she thought.

"I have a gift for you," he said, and dangled a necklace from his well-tended fingers. A golden bird swooped from a delicate chain, the ruby in its eye winking in the low light, seeming to glow by itself.

It was the dark, gleaming pearl in its clutches that drew Nicola's gaze, though, and her throat tightened. She thought of Jack, and how he made her feel so alive and free. There was so much unresolved between them. And what of Will? Would they come for her?

Roccelli leaned in and fastened the bauble around her neck. The cool metal heated on contact with her skin, almost painfully so, and her hand went to lift it away. He caught her, though, fingers vise-like around her wrist.

"I could have given you so much," he murmured. "But you cost me when you fled. Making me search for you forced me to change my plans. And now, I'm afraid that instead of being by my side when I rule, I'm going to have to use you to get there."

He pushed her back down on the bed and left, taking the candle with him. The only light now was from the lantern outside the window. Nicola gazed out at it, hoping that it could be a beacon for her scoundrel.

* * *

Alone in his cabin, with repairs halted for the day and the men all bedded down save for the watch, Jack Sparrow reclined on his bed, a small lantern suspended from a hook on the bedpost illuminating the dagger in his hands. When they'd disposed of the man Nicola had killed, Jack had cleaned the blade and now studied it, recalling its owner with a strange, tight feeling in his gut.

He'd gotten used to her presence on his ship, her quick intelligence and her ready laughter. She was a tiny thing, true, but she had the steady grace of a natural-born sailor. Jack cringed at the thought of what Roccelli or his men might do to her. He'd told Will not to worry, but he himself was consumed with it.

"You're a bloody fool, Jackie," he murmured to himself. "She's not for you, aye?"

But the memory of her mouth under his haunted him, and he angrily slammed the dagger's point into the wood of the wall above his head, throwing himself to his feet with confused frustration.

The pistol he'd given her lay on his desk. She hadn't had time to use it, likely because her dagger had been closer at hand when she'd been attacked in the middle of preparing for bed. How could any of them have known that they'd be attacked so suddenly and swiftly?

He dropped into his chair and swung his feet up, propping them on the edge of the desk. Cradling the pistol in his hands, he absent-mindedly went through the motions of cleaning and priming it as he considered their predicament. Not getting her back. That he was dead set on. It was that kiss they'd shared on the beach that had him in a quandry.

"So you like the girl," he muttered. "Will's made it clear she's off-limits. Rightly so, too. She's not the type to trifle with."

Calypso help him, though, he wanted to trifle with her.

* * *

"Where are we going?"

Daylight had brought some magnanimous behaviour from her captor. While she still only had her nightrail, Roccelli had had a man bring Nicola some hot water with which to bathe, and she'd done what she could to clean her hair free of blood.

Now, she was on deck, pointedly ignoring the looks of the crew staring lustfully at her. Nicola scanned the horizon, hoping to see some glimpse of black sails. There was nothing.

"An island," the captain said unhelpfully. "I don't see what it matters to you, since you won't be leaving it."

"I wish I'd never met you," she hissed. "You're a monster."

He shrugged. "You cannot change the past. And I've seen enough of it to know."

"Is this how you've lived so long?" she inquired, curious in spite of herself. "Sacrificing young virgins?"

"One of the ways."

"How do you know I'm still-" She paused, flushing. "-a virgin?"

Roccelli's blue eyes cut to her. "If you aren't, I'd have no use for you and I'd kill you and throw you overboard."

She gulped. "It was hypothetical," she quickly assured him. "Not that, I'm sure, you don't intend to kill me anyway."

He smiled brilliantly. "You're right about that, but at least this way, you get a little more time in this world."

Nicola stalked over to the rail, then turned back and glowered at him. "Captain Sparrow will save me. He'll stop you."

"We shall see. But I wouldn't count on it. He doesn't know where we're going, does he?"

* * *

Gibbs stepped into Jack's cabin and informed the captain, "Repairs are finished, Cap'n."

Jack tapped the compass that sat before him. It spun somewhat uselessly, in time to his whirling thoughts.

"Captain?"

He looked up, focusing on his first mate. "Aye?"

"Repairs are finished. What's our heading?"

Jack consulted the compass. What was it he wanted? To stop Roccelli to save his pride, yes, but also, he wanted to save Nicola. And he wanted to run from his feelings for the young woman.

What, though, did he want more?

He sighed. In truth, he wanted Nicola.

The compass spun and stopped pointing south-east. He sat up.

"We have a heading?" Gibbs asked.

Jack hesitated all of five seconds, then jumped to his feet and slapped his hat on his head. "Ready the men to make sail, Mr. Gibbs! We have a damsel in distress to rescue and a dragon to slay."

"A dragon? We're pirates, Jack."

That didn't slow the captain. "They have water dragons in China, Mr. Gibbs."


	8. Chapter Seven

**-Chapter Seven-**

It was only as they were leaving Tortuga in the distance that they realised that they'd left Will in port.

"I'm not going back for the boy," Jack said. "It could be the difference between life and death for Miss Holyfield."

"He'll kill you when we do retrieve him," Gibbs pointed out.

"He can try. He'll have to get in line."

Jack didn't care about Will right then. And, truthfully, young Mr. Turner's absence gave him more space to think, without constant whinging about how they weren't getting Nicky fast enough.

All he wanted was to find Nicola before Roccelli did something to her. Part of him was a bit alarmed at how completely that desire had superseded everything else. But that was the bare-bones truth of it. He wanted her almost above anything else, even if he couldn't have her.

He missed her. He missed her sharp intelligence and her quick wit, her fire and courage. It took a lot to face one's fears, as she had done. Hunting for Roccelli when she was terrified of him was, to Jack, incredibly brave.

And as superstitious as the men were about having a woman aboard ship, Jack could see that the men missed her, as well. She brightened everything around her.

He hated the idea of that light being put out.

Jack knew that he couldn't keep her, once he got her back. Will would strangle him with his bare hands. Saving her, getting her back to Port Royal in one piece, would be enough.

It had to be. He couldn't give her more.

* * *

She wasn't entirely certain what Giacomo was planning for her, but she figured it was going to be painful and drawn out. He'd abandoned all pretense of a devoted suitor, and let her stay holed up in the small cabin she'd been stowed in.

Nicola sat in her bunk, legs drawn up under the skirt of her nightrail. It didn't seem fair that she'd fled him in fear of being complicit in his dark schemes, and it had only made him decide to do worse to her. Perhaps, if she'd married him, he would have let her be.

But after the things she'd seen him do, she knew that would never have lasted.  
And she would never have met Jack.

If she were really, truly honest with herself, she had to admit that sometime in the past few weeks, she had become more emotionally attached to Jack Sparrow than any other man she'd been courted by in her young life. They'd shared just one kiss, but it had moved her more than any other. He made her laugh. He didn't see her as a useless female only good for embroidery and birthing babies. Or for whatever Roccelli was planning to do with her.

Nicola leaned her forehead on her knees, her hand still clutching the necklace. It was a bad, bad idea to fall in love with a pirate. After all, he'd have no use for her beyond, well, what men such as he generally wanted from a woman.

Still, she ached in her heart, knowing that she'd never felt for anyone what she felt for Jack. And wasn't that a cruel twist? She could have had any of the rich, handsome suitors that had courted her. And here she'd gone and fallen head over heels for a _pirate_.

Her father would have an absolute fit if he knew.

The motion of the ship stopped and the wall behind her vibrated as they dropped the anchor. Nicola caught her breath. Had they reached their destination?

The door to her cabin opened. Roccelli stood there, with that ugly, beatific smile on his face.

"Come, _cucciola mia_, we go to our glory."

"I'm not your pet!" she snapped.

He ignored her and simply strode forward, grabbed her arm, and yanked her off the bed. She stumbled, but he didn't pause; he merely hauled her out of the cabin and down the corridor to the stairs.

One of his men was waiting on deck with iron shackles, which he fastened around her slender wrists.

"I would have given you gold and silver," Giacomo said sadly. "Diamonds, rubies, emeralds. But now all I give you is what you deserve. Death comes for traitors, after all."

Since she couldn't climb down with her shackles, one of the larger men slung her over his shoulder and descended to the runner. He dropped her on the floor of the boat and she bit her tongue with the impact. Blood filled her mouth, and Nicola took the opportunity to spit it at Roccelli. Crimson droplets splattered on his crisp, white shirt, but he only laughed.

_Please, Jack_, she thought desperately. _Find me_.

* * *

The _Blood Storm_ might have been a larger, more powerful ship, but it wasn't the _Black Pearl_ and couldn't match her for speed. While they had lost two days in sailing from Aruba to Tortuga, and another two in repairs, the _Pearl_ was the fastest ship on the sea by means of enchantment. With the masts and other repairs finished, they were back near Aruba in a day, and turning east.

"Where d'you think he's headed?" Gibbs asked.

Jack shrugged. "Either the continent, or Trinidad. If they've made port along the coast and headed inland, it will be difficult to catch up. If it's Trinidad, or Tobago, we might have an easier time."

"There's other places on this heading," Gibbs pointed out.

"I am sincerely hoping, Mr. Gibbs, we needn't follow them all the way to Africa. I didn't enjoy my last visit there."

* * *

Nicola found it rather ironic that "for her safety", Roccelli ordered his largest thug to carry her from the boat when they reached shore. As she bounced against his back, fighting nausea, she reflected that she had nowhere to run to and no shoes, besides. And the bit about her safety was an outright lie. He was going to kill her, after all.

_Should've stayed at the mansion with Elizabeth_, she thought.

Since her view was entirely of the ground and the back of the man who carried her, she had no idea where they were headed. She felt sick and her head hurt. Still, at least she was alive . . . for the moment.

The men all spoke in low voices, in Italian, which Nicola didn't know. Idly, she wondered how long they'd been in Roccelli's service and if they were as immortal as he.

Abruptly, the man carrying her over his shoulder stopped and dumped her on the ground. The rush of blood away from her head made the world spin, and she caught a glimpse of her former fiance's face as he grinned down at her, before everything went dark and she passed out.

* * *

Their pursuit led them to Trinidad, just as Jack had expected, and a little cove on the side of the island facing the larger continent.

"There," Gibbs said excitedly, pointing to the ship anchored before them. "The _Blood Storm_!"

"I see it, Mr. Gibbs," Jack replied flatly. "When we get in position, I'm going ashore. And if you keep to the Code and leave me and Miss Holyfield here, I will hunt you down and kill you."

Gibbs gulped. He'd never seen his captain in such a mood, and wasn't rightly sure of its cause. "Yes, sir. Would ye like us to do somethin' about the other ship?"

"We're pirates," Jack said. "I'm sure you can think of something."

Once they were closer, he took the _Pearl_'s own runner to shore. He was vaguely familiar with this island, having explored it once with the thought to using it as a hideout, but it was just so far from everything else, he'd decided it wasn't useful.

But he remembered a cave system that some primitive people had used for pagan worship and human sacrifice, not far from here. That was likely Roccelli's goal. Why he'd come all this way, Jack didn't know or particularly care. He just wanted to find Nicky, kill Roccelli, and get back to his livelihood.

He came upon the first set of guards not five minutes later, hidden in the jungle scrub along the path. They tried to ambush him, but were somewhat noisy about it, crashing through the trees to get to him. Jack drew his sword and dispatched both swiftly.

"Fools," he muttered. "Terrible footwork."

Two more sets of lookouts later, Jack reached the cave he'd remembered. He hoped he wasn't too late; the continued presence of the guards gave him some measure of hope that Roccelli hadn't completed whatever ritual he was intending. And given what knowledge Jack had of the occult and the mystical, he was probably waiting for nightfall or midnight or some ridiculous thing. As it wasn't yet dusk, perhaps he had time.

Another one of Roccelli's men tried to stop him inside the cave. Jack tripped him, slamming the man into the ground, and drew his blade across the man's throat. He was not in a mood for long sword battles. And if rumour held true, he had one ahead of him with the Devil's Hand.

Bloodshed was never something Jack looked forward to.


	9. Chapter Eight

**-Chapter Eight-**

Jack got lost twice before he managed to find his way to the central chamber. His gaze darted through the room, taking in the stone altar, Roccelli beside it. Nicola was chained to the altar, weighed down with shackles to keep her from escaping. It didn't seem she'd be going anywhere, though, since her eyes were closed, her honey-coloured hair spilling in a tangle over the rocky surface she lay on.

"Captain Sparrow, isn't it?"

He gave Roccelli the once-over. A little taller than himself, with annoyingly good looks. Dark hair, eyes like one of those fluffy dogs he'd met once, somewhere bloody cold.

"Aye, that's me," Jack said.

"I'm afraid, Captain, that you're too late to stop me," Roccelli said. He seemed oddly happy, not at all dismayed that Jack had shown up. "The ritual has begun."

Jack hefted his sword. "As long as you don't finish it, I'm not too late. Savvy?"

"Did you come for the girl?" The Italian pirate grinned. "Come to rescue a damsel in distress? You are definitely too late on that count. I've already had her as part of the ritual."

Jack's dark gaze flicked to Nicola. He didn't see any signs of it, but he was still too far away. Fury made his guts clench. If this bastard had laid a finger on her, he would skin him alive!

"She won't waken," Roccelli continued, seemingly oblivious. "I am not a complete monster. She will not feel a thing when I take her life for my continued immortality."

With a shake of his head, Jack stepped further into the room. "No, mate, I'm not here for the girl. See, the Caribbean? It's mine. You're in me territory without so much as a by-your-leave, an' you're making life difficult for me and my fellow pirates."

"Yours?" The other man laughed uproariously.

"Mine," Jack said simply. "You've heard of the Pirate Lords, aye?"

That stopped Roccelli's laugh. "Yes," he said cautiously.

Jack shrugged. "I'm the Pirate Lord of the Caribbean, mate."

Those eerie blue eyes flicked over him. "_You_? Ridiculous. No matter. You're still no match for me."

Roccelli drew his own sword, a wicked rapier with elaborate scrollwork on the guard, a large red stone in the pommel. He rushed Jack.

The next few moments were a flurry of clanging swords. The Italian was as good as rumour said, but he was also stuck a little in his forms. Roccelli drew first blood, a slash on Jack's upper arm, nearly on the shoulder. Jack wasn't as restricted, and he took advantage of one block to punch Roccelli in the gut.

The Italian was surprised, and angry. "Pirate," he growled.

Jack grinned, showing gold teeth. "Only just catching on, are we?"

With a roar, Roccelli swung at him. Jack ducked, dropping to the ground, and rolled under the other man's leg as he turned. Jack kicked out and hit the back of Roccelli's knee, sending him into a sprawl on the floor.

"How . . . dare you!" Roccelli staggered to his feet. "I will kill you. But first, I will tear her apart before your eyes!"

Jack was still prone on the floor, and as Roccelli brought his blade down, he pulled Nicola's pistol from his belt, sighted, and fired.

The lead ball hit Roccelli dead centre between the eyes. The man stopped, jerked, and his sword fell from his grasp. Slowly, he crumpled to hit the stone floor with a somewhat anti-climactic "thump".

"Not so immortal now, are we?" Jack asked the corpse. "To be honest, that was a little disappointing."

Roccelli's hand twitched.

"Oh, no, you don't!" Jack rolled to his feet, picked up the rapier Roccelli had dropped, and swung it down.

It took two blows, but the Italian's head rolled free, and all movement stopped. He watched warily for several long moments, to see if somehow, Roccelli would recover, but nothing happened. Those pale blue eyes continued to stare sightlessly at the ceiling, even now clouding over.

Panting from exertion, Jack bent and searched Roccelli for the key to Nicola's shackls. He retrieved his sword, and stumbled across the room to where she lay, eyes still closed, breathing shallow. A huge bruise marred her forehead, a narrow gash bisecting it and disappearing into her hair. He fought the urge to stroke her hair, and concentrated on unlocking the iron chains that held her down.

"C'mon, Nicky," he said. "Time to wake up."

Nothing.

Jack shook her, lightly slapped her face. "Wake up, Nicola," he barked.

At last, she stirred, faintly. Deciding that was good enough. Jack swept her up into his arms. Her head lolled against his shoulder.

It would be preferable to have her on her feet, in case he ran into any more of Roccelli's men, but fate seemed to be with them. All the way back to his boat, they didn't run into a single person. Jack carefully deposited Nicky in the boat, and pushed off into the water.

He noted with satisfaction that the _Blood Storm_ listed to its side, rapidly taking in water. And the _Black Pearl_ was just where he'd left it, cannons still smoking from its attack on the other ship.

Gibbs helped Jack get Nicola on board. They carried her straight into Jack's cabin and put her on the bed there. She was a little more alert now, groaning with a hand to her head.

"Report, Mr. Gibbs," Jack ordered.

"As you've seen, the _Blood Storm_ has been sunk." Gibbs looked very pleased with himself. "At first, I didn't think we could do it, since all attacks seemed to be repelled, but then suddenly, all the men on the other ship started acting like they was in pain, like. So we took them out in their confusion. Got some very nice booty, too. Lots of food, should tide us over a long while, and plenty of gold and treasure."

"That should make the men happy," Jack said.

Gibbs nodded, then asked, "How is she?"

"She'll be fine, I think. Roccelli's dead. We need to make for Tortuga to retrieve Will."

"Aye, Cap'n."

Gibbs excused himself, leaving Jack with Nicola. The pirate captain wasn't sure how to revive her faster, so he sat and waited for her to come around.

* * *

Her first real, coherent thought was that her head hurt. She cracked bleary eyes and winced at the light in the cabin. A shadow moved between her and the lamp, and Nicola blinked, trying to focus.

"Are you alright?"

She knew that voice, hoped she wasn't imagining it. Was she dead? Being dead most likely didn't hurt, though.

"Where . . .?"

"You're back on the _Pearl_, love," Jack told her. "He wasn't as big an evil as I was led to believe."

Nicola lifted a hand, rubbed at her eyes. "Is he- Did you kill him?"

He nodded. She sat up, ignoring his attempt to push her back down on the pillows. She didn't know what Roccelli had done to her, but the effects seemed to be wearing off.

"That's quite the lump you've got," Jack said helpfully.

"One of Roccelli's men hit me with his pistol," she said. "May I have some water?"

Wordlessly, Jack fetched a glass from the pitcher that sat on his desk and handed it to her. She gulped it down and sighed.

Then she realised abruptly that she wasn't in her cabin, but his. And in only a nightrail, at that! She flushed, but he didn't seem to notice.

"Where's Will?" she asked.

"Ah." Jack hesitated. "We . . . might have accidentally, not at all intentionally, left him on Tortuga."

Nicola let out a sudden laugh at the thought. "Oh, he's going to be so angry at you."

"I think he'll live, especially since I retrieved you." Jack took the glass from her. "You'll want to change out of that."

"That" was her grubby, blood-stained nightgown. She was grateful that she still wore it, horrible as it was, because it meant no one had touched her.

That she knew of, anyway.

"A bath, too, would be lovely."

"I'll have the tub and water brought to you."


	10. Chapter Nine

**-Chapter Nine-**

An hour later, Nicola had bathed away the aches and grime, and dressed in a deep red gown over a white shift, her hair left loose to dry. The same deck hands that had brought her the tub carried it out.

Jack had returned her pistol to her, and her dagger, and provided a belt for her to wear them with. She was in the middle of trying how best to accomplish that when a knock sounded at the door.

"You may enter," she said.

The door opened and Jack stepped in. He was without his hat, or the pair of pistols he normally carried.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Shaken," she replied honestly. "I nearly died, all because I'm a-"

Nicola stopped, realised what she'd been about to say, and to _whom_. She dropped the belt on her bunk and looked at him.

"I'm tired of being treated like chattel," she said. "My father simply wants to marry me off to the highest bidder and expand his shipping enterprise. Roccelli wanted to sacrifice me to some pagan god in exchange for eternal life and power. My only worth is my virginity!"

The captain lifted dark brows at her outburst. "I'm sure there's someone out there who'll be more than happy to relieve you of that. Plenty of someones."

Nicola thought maybe it was the blow to the head, or possibly all the hours contemplating her impending doom, that made her blurt out, "Are you one of them?"

He froze, still as a statue, for a good twenty seconds, before he said, ever so intelligently, "Uh."

Nicola blushed anew and looked away. "My apologies, Captain Sparrow, that was forward of me."

Jack cleared his throat. "Roccelli told me he'd . . . already done so."

She paled. "He didn't. I would- I would know."

"Much relieved to hear it," he muttered. "Nicky . . . I told Will I wouldn't touch you."

"Will wouldn't need to know."

He closed his eyes and rubbed a knuckle against the bridge of his nose. "I _try_ to keep my word. Generally. It's a bad idea, Nicola. I- No. I cannot."

Jack fled, leaving her embarrassed and confused. She knew he wanted her; it wasn't difficult to see. She wanted the same thing, and if Jack Sparrow was anything, it wasn't celibate.

Besides, Will had no right to dictate what she could or could not do. He wasn't her father; Leslie Holyfield was thousands of miles away, on the other side of the ocean, and he had no say in it, either.

She huffed a breath. There was no way she was going to leave the discussion at that. Leaving her boots beside the bed, she hurried up to the deck, and ran into Joshamee, who merely jerked his head and a thumb towards the captain's quarts.

She shoved Jack's cabin door open without bothering to knock, and stumbled to a halt. Jack looked up, pausing in the middle of peeling his shirt off.

Black eyes met blue, and Nicola flushed. But she didn't retreat. She stepped into the room and pushed the door shut with a foot and then crossed her arms defiantly.

Jack finished removing his shirt. He tossed it toward the bed and turned to face her. He didn't speak, just stood there. His chest was mostly smooth, with a few scars here and there. A skull and crossbones tattoo adorned his stomach, with script around it. The sparrow on his forearm, and the P scar, were both clearly visible.

She hesitated at the threshold and bit her lip.

He sighed and gave in, was the first to break the silence. "This wouldn't work between us."

"Why not?"

"Because," he said, as if speaking to a child. "I'm a pirate. A woman in every port an' all."

"You think I care that you've been with others? Because I don't."

His dark eyes tracked her movements as she took another step towards him. "You sure about that, love? That number, darling, is awfully high."

Nicola shrugged. "I don't care. I mean, as long as . . . you don't care that . . . _my_ list holds exactly none."

He knew. She was too innocent in her responses to be anything else, no matter what Roccelli had taunted him with.

"Do you have any idea, a real idea, Nicky, what it is you're offering?"

Silently, she nodded. Nicola took a cautious step towards him, and reached out to trail a finger over the tattoo on his stomach. "Jack . . . This is what I want. I know you want _me_."

He wondered why he was having such an attack of conscience when it came to her. He'd tried shamelessly to seduce Elizabeth, but with this little thing before him, he felt like he was soiling something sacred. And since he'd posed as a cleric of the Church of England to do something illegal, that was really saying something.

Will's saving his life figured in there somewhere, The boy was a friend, and it was something of a betrayal to be thinking the things he was, looking at Nicola. But that wasn't it, not really. It scared him, this strange desire to protect her. Back at the cave, when he'd thought Roccelli had killed her . . .

He couldn't become attached, it was too dangerous. Too dangerous for her, for his lifestyle . . . and most of all, for his heart. Because he didn't know what he'd do if he let her in, and then he lost her.

"I'm not looking for marriage," she told him. "I'm not looking to shackle you. All I want is . . . to live according to my own rules for once."

Jack knew how she felt. It was what he'd wanted his entire life. "Be sure what you're saying," he told her roughly. "Because there's no going back."

Her small hand lifted to stroke his cheek. "Please, Jack."

With a groan, he hauled her in to kiss her, cursing himself for a fool even as he did. Nicola's arms went around his neck and she returned the kiss with fervour, pressing her lithe body against his.

Jack swept an arm across the surface of the desk, sending maps and random clutter to the floor. He lifted Nicola in his arms and set her on the desk. Her eager fingers explored the planes of his chest even as he fisted his hand in her hair, tipped her head back, and kissed her. Jack pulled her flush against him, pinning her hands between them.

She responded by hooking a leg around his. Jack leaned her back on the desk, and slid a hand up her leg, pushing the hem of her skirt with it. Nicola sighed against his mouth and he used his tongue to explore her lips. She whimpered and shifted restlessly on the desk, clawing her way free to hold his face.

His fingers slid up, over her dress, and caught the neckline of her bodice, pulling the material down to expose her shift.

"Jack," she groaned.

The pirate tipped her chin up and pressed his lips to the side of her neck. Nicola was breathing hard, eyes closed and hair trailing across the desk and over the edge, only her hand curled around his neck keeping her from sprawling across the wooden surface.

Then he swept her up in his arms and carried her to his bed.

* * *

Jack was gone when she woke to darkness. For a long moment, she wondered if she was back aboard the _Blood Storm_ and everything that had happened with Jack was a dream. Nicola sat up, realising quickly that she was nude beneath the sheet. It hadn't been a dream.

Her cheeks flushed and for a wild space of time, her heart pounded in her chest as she wondered just what she'd done. She'd given herself to a pirate, a man who could not offer a secure future for her. No decent man would have her now. She could make a life for herself in Port Royal, perhaps, but she was spoiled goods. She'd offered Jack her virginity on a silver platter, giving him the one thing she should have jealously guarded.

And speaking of the pirate, where was he? A full moon rode the horizon, nearly touching the sea. All crew save the night watch should be abed, including the captain.

As if summoned, the door opened and Jack came in, dressed in breeches, shirt, and boots. A lantern hung from one hand, a bundle wrapped in cloth in the other.

"Victuals," he explained, hefting the package. "I would imagine that you're hungry."

Nicola was, in fact, hungry, and she nodded.

They shared a light repast of bread and meat liberated from the _Blood Storm_. Then Jack reclaimed his place beside her, drawing her into his arms with singular intent. Their second time was easier, more familiar, and when Jack fell asleep beside her, Nicola lay awake, wondering how she was going to survive parting ways with him when they got back to Jamaica.


	11. Chapter Ten

**-Chapter Ten-**

To save her embarrassment in returning to her quarters in the morning, Jack showed her a hidden door and a narrow spiral staircase that descended below-deck, emerging into the corridor through another hidden panel right beside her cabin.

"I've never seen this before," she marvelled.

"Had it installed when she was the _Wicked Wench_," he said. "Makes it easier to check on cargo in inclement weather."

"Hmm. Or to have illicit assignations."

One corner of his mouth curved up, a gold tooth flashing. "That, too."

She flattened her hand on his chest. "Thank you . . . for last night. Though, I'm embarrassed that I threw myself at-"

He cut her off with a kiss, interrupting her apology. He didn't need it, didn't want to hear it.

When he stepped back, they were both flushed. "Tonight," he said. "Use the stairs."

She smiled and ducked back into her cabin.

Jack exited to the main deck through his own cabin, found Gibbs at the wheel. "Morning, Mr. Gibbs."

"Mornin', Cap'n Sparrow." The older pirate eyed him. "You seem right chipper. No worse for wear after our adventure?"

His answering grin was slow and lazy. "Indeed."

"And Miss Nicola?"

"Fit as a fiddle." His grin only widened.

"Young Mr. Turner is going to have your hide," Gibbs observed.

The first mate clammed up when the captain's dark gaze settled on him. "Right," he stammered. "I'll just . . . see to . . . things."

"You do that."

Nicola dressed in an ivory blouse and a dusty-blue skirt, with a matching jacket over it. She was pleasantly sore, aside from her injured forehead, and hummed a jaunty tune as she emerged to the main deck. Several of the men greeted her cheerily when they saw her, and Mr. Cotton's parrot squawked, "Steady as she goes!" as she passed by.

Jack was at the wheel, eyes to the horizon, when she joined him.

"Good morning, Captain."

"Miss Holyfield," he replied. He glanced at her and she flushed.

"It occurs to me that I never properly thanked you for saving my life."

The pirate smirked. "You thanked me right proper, Nicky."

She cleared her throat. "That wasn't proper."

The smirk turned into an outright grin.

"So where are we, and how far away is Tortuga?"

"We've left Trinidad," he told her, and gestured to the island fading behind them. "We're three days from Tortuga, if the wind holds. There's a storm coming, so it's likely we might get there sooner. As long as it isn't a hurricane," he amended.

Nicola leaned her back against the rail separating the sterncastle, where they stood, from the main deck. "Really, though, Jack, I can't thank you enough for coming after me. I was so terrified."

"I wasn't going to leave you with him," he said after a long moment. "I'm a pirate, aye, but-"

Jack had more of a respect for people than most he knew, especially women. He may have counted as a womanizer, but he still thought, secretly, that women were to be protected. That wasn't a view that went over very well with other pirates, so he tended to keep it hidden.

"You're not chattel," he said.

"And I'm sure Will was very annoying and insistent that you get me back."

Jack laughed. "The pup was _very_ loud about it. He tends to get that way, though. When his Lizzie was taken by a pirate named Barbossa, he was obnoxious in his eagerness."

"Will is . . . very earnest. He always has been, even when we were small."

"I don't doubt it."

A curse from one of the men drew their attention. The crew was still attending to smaller repairs from the attack by the _Blood Storm_.

"Cap'n!" Gibbs pounded up the stairs. "Charlie's split his hand open, whittling. It's fairly bad."

"I'll tend it," Nicola said immediately.

"You? But the blood-" Gibbs blurted, then looked chagrined.

"I'm an adult woman of childbearing age, Mr. Gibbs," she said archly. "I dare say I have seen more blood than you ever will."

She swept past him and down the steps, ordering the men to clear off the table that sat on deck. "You," she said to Cotton, "get some hot water from Cook. I need clean rags, too, if there _are_ any. Try in the cargo from the Blood Storm. I'll get my sewing kit."

She ran down the stairs, to her cabin, and dug through her bag for the little sewing kit she took with her everywhere. One never knew, after all, when they'd need to mend a torn hem.

Jack thumped a bottle of alcohol on the table. "Numb up," he said to Charlie.

"Aye, Captain."

The sailor downed several mouthfuls of whatever it was in the bottle, while Nicola set to bathing the nasty gash across the man's palm. It was full of splinters and wood shavings, and she had to pick them out carefully with her needle.

Then she set to drawing the edges closed with small, careful stitches. It wasn't the first time she'd had to sew a man's wounds shut, and likely wouldn't be the last. The men gathered and watched in silence as she worked.

Cotton had found a whole chest of medical supplies in the things looted from the Blood Storm, and Nicola used a roll of linen bandaging to bind Charlie's hand, then fashion a sling.

"Don't use it for at least three days," she cautioned. "And keep it dry so that it doesn't fester. And for heaven's sake, sharpen that knife so it doesn't catch and you don't lose control of it again."

The sailor was sent down to the crew hammocks below-deck. Nicola gathered the things she'd used and cleaned the mess.

"You'd make a good nurse, lass," Jack told her.

"I've had to be one, sometimes," she said. "With so many siblings, and a mother that faints at the sight of blood, it largely fell to me to tend the hurts of my brothers and sisters."

"Hmm."

He couldn't ask her to stay, be on the crew. He wanted to. Not only did he want to keep her, make her his, but she would have been such an asset. He'd never seen such careful, deliberate stitching, nor done so quickly and skillfully. Calypso knew, none of his crew were that capable.

Jack frowned, annoyed at himself, and strode back to the wheel. Nicola watched him go, wondering what it was she'd said that had bothered him so.

A storm hit that afternoon, raging for two hours before dying off. Nicola spent the evening in her cabin, repairing a hole in the side of her red gown's bodice. After lights-out for the crew, she made her way up the spiral staircase and into Jack's cabin. He was sitting on the floor, with a trunk of things taken from Roccelli's ship, picking through it.

"What's this?"

"Treasure!" he said. Jack held up a beautiful silver and ruby bracelet, and when she sat beside him, he clasped it around her wrist.

When she protested, he said, "It suits you, darling. And it would never fit me."

Nicola laughed, touched by the gesture behind his facetious comment. "It's pretty," she said.

He dug in the chest and came up with some gaudy emerald earrings. Holding them up to his own ears, he asked, "Shall I wear these to the duke's ball?"

She snorted and clapped a hand over her mouth. With a giggle, she said, "Those aren't you at all, Jack. Try these."

Nicola plucked out a pair of small gold hoops and handed them to him. He studied them, and slipped one into his left ear, but not the right.

"Very piratical." She nodded.

He pulled a long string of pearls, interspaced with gold beads, out of the trunk and looped it over her head.

"Jack," she breathed, "I don't need these things."

Instead of answering, he tugged her closer with the necklace, then rolled her beneath him, pinning her to the wooden floor.

"I want to see you wearing only these," he told her.

She sucked in a breath, and said, "All right."


	12. Chapter Eleven

**-Chapter Eleven-**

They passed the western shore of Hispaniola on the third day out from Trinidad. By now, Nicola had given up all pretense of staying in her cabin, though some of her things were still there. She woke late and dressed quickly, finding Jack on the main deck, going over his maps in the late-morning sun. The crewmen gave her knowing looks, but no one actually commented on her staying with the captain.

"So we were all the way over here?" she asked, indicating Trinidad on Jack's map.

He nodded. "Here is Aruba, where you were taken. We couldn't repair the Pearl there, so we had to go back to Tortuga, here."

She sighed. "It's rather a miracle you got to me in time."

"The _Blood Storm_ was slow," he told her. "Bigger, heavier, especially with a hold full of cargo. There's only one ship faster than the _Pearl_ in existence."

"And what's that?" she inquired curiously.

He took a drink from his ever-present rum bottle. "The _Flying Dutchman_."

Nicola laughed. "That's a myth."

His black eyes flicked to her face. "It's not."

The laugh died. "It isn't?"

"I've seen it," he said shortly, and stood. Jack rolled up the maps and went back to his cabin.

Nicola made a frustrated noise and followed.

Jack shoved the maps into a leather tube and dropped the paperweights onto his desk, before he dropped into his chair. She perched on the edge of the desk and studied him.

"I won't ask," she said finally. "If it was bad enough to put that look on your face, I won't."

Jack scrubbed along his jaw with the heel of his hand. "No man should see it and live," he said darkly.

She didn't like seeing him disturbed, so she decided to distract him.

"We'll reach port soon," she said.

"Hmm." He picked up his quill, dipped it in the ink pot, and made a few notations in his log.

She pulled the quill from his hand and stuck it in the inkwell. Jack raised a brow at her.

"Did you want something?"

Nicola scooted over so she sat directly in front of him. "I said, we'll reach port soon. And then we'll have Will present and . . . in the way. And this may be our last chance."

She lifted her skirts and put a foot on each arm of his chair.

"Are you suggesting, Nicky, that we make use of what time we have?"

"Of course. And I know you're not the type to let an opportunity pass him by."

"Certainly, I am opportunistic," he said slowly.

Jack kissed her knee. "I want you," he told her.

She smiled wickedly. "Then take me, Jack."

It was over too quickly, and he was reluctant to pull away and break the illusion that they had all the time in the world.

She was so tempted to tell him she loved him, but felt a quick pang in her heart, knowing that nothing would make him run faster. He wanted her body, which she was willing to give, but a pirate had little use for a woman's devotion.

Someone knocked at the cabin door, and Jack finally pulled away. Nicola rearranged her appearance as the captain went to consult with his first mate.

They had reached Tortuga. Their time was up.

* * *

Will was, understandably, angry when they reached Tortuga and located him, but his relief at seeing Nicola alive and well overrode that swiftly. In the end, he was grateful to Jack, taking somewhat at face value the pirate's tale that he hadn't wanted to delay finding and saving his young cousin. That it had given the two of them time together without Will on board was purely serendipitous, and something Will wasn't aware of, anyway.

"Did Roccelli hurt you?" Will asked when he had Nicola alone.

"No. Aside from a few knocks and scrapes," she amended, showing him the bump on her brow. "Jack got there in time, barely."

"I hate to say it, but I owe him," her cousin growled. "At least he has an honourable streak in him."

Nicola, who had trysted with said captain barely two hours before they made port in Tortuga, said nothing.

"Have you considered what you'll do now?" Will asked his cousin. They stood at the bow of the ship, waiting for that sliver of land at the horizon. "Roccelli is dead and you're free. You needn't go back to England."

_Stay aboard the Pearl with Jack_, she thought, but didn't say it aloud. It wouldn't happen. "I don't know. Become a seamstress? I loathe needlework, but I'm good at it."

"I'm sure you can stay with Elizabeth at the manor until you decide," he said. Will put an arm around her shoulders. "It's been good to see you again, Nicola. You were always my favourite cousin."

She laughed. "Needless flattery, Will."

"Land ho!" the man in the crow's nest bellowed far above them.

Sure enough, Jamaica had appeared in the distance. Nicola felt her heart sink.

"I'll go and make sure my things are packed," she said.

When she reached the cabin she'd occupied before her stay with Jack, she found the necklace Roccelli had given her on the bed. Nicola picked it up, held the heated gold in her hands.

_I wish I could stay_, she thought. _I love him_.

The ruby eye seemed to wink. Sighing, knowing it was her imagination, she thrust the necklace into the bag, with the rest of her belongings.

But at the circular stair that led from below decks to the captain's cabin, she paused. Nicola wanted to say goodbye, at least, in private, without Will there. Will wouldn't understand, couldn't know, what had passed between her and the pirate captain. And she couldn't just leave Jack without _something_ said.

The door at the top of the stair was unlocked and she let herself into the captain's quarters. Jack sat at his desk with a bottle of rum and his maps, but he didn't seem to actually be doing anything with either.

"After we reach Port Royal, we'll go our separate ways."

He looked up at the sound of her voice, noted the bag. Dimly, he recalled hearing that they were approaching land.

"I wanted . . . to say goodbye, and to . . . thank you. For everything."

"You're most welcome."

The silence stretched, somewhat awkwardly. She set her bag down and smoothed her skirt, looking everywhere but at him. Jack could admit to himself, if not aloud, that he was going to miss Nicky, and not only for the bedsport she'd provided of late. "You'd make a good pirate, lass, but I think Will would kill me if I led you down that path."

Nicola shrugged. She didn't want to leave Jack, but knew she had to. She put on a brave face, not wanting to let him see just how much she'd come to care for him. "I'm not certain any path is right for me."

She'd drawn closer, and he stood as she approached. Jack couldn't resist bending his head to kiss her, just once more. She responded eagerly, pressing her soft and womanly body to his.

"Nic," he rasped. "The things you do to me."

"One last time," she breathed. "Ravish me, Jack. You're a pirate. Ravish me as a pirate should."

He chuckled and one corner of his mouth lifted. "Who am I to deny a last request?"

Jack kissed her passionately, demandingly, his hands tugging at her clothing. Spinning her in his arms, he bent her over the edge of the desk.

"Jack!"

He swept her hair over her shoulder, the honey-coloured locks tumbling over her breasts. Nicola let her eyes close as Jack pressed his lips to the nape of her neck. Her mother and grandmother had told her this was a chore, a duty to be endured. She splayed her hands over the map on the desk and bit her lip, wondering how anyone could consider _this_ a chore.

"Jack, please," she pleaded.

"Almost there, love. Just a bit-"

Suddenly, the cabin door behind them burst open. Nicola gasped and Jack quickly moved to shield her with his body.

Will stood at the door, looking completely dumbfounded. Then he began to look very angry. He drew his sword and pointed it at Jack.

Nicola managed to get her bodice rearranged into some semblance of decency, and moved to stand beside Jack. "Will, put the sword away."

"He compromised you," her cousin protested.

She rolled her eyes. "I compromised myself, thank you very much. I appreciate that you would like to defend my honour, Will, but that ship, ah, not only has weighed anchor, it's sailed."

Jack grinned. "I like the analogy."

"Thank you."

Will's sword point wavered. "You," he said to Jack. "You will . . . make reparation for this."

The captain tried to decide if his urge was stronger to make a witty remark, or admit Will had a point. Because, sword aside, the young man did.

"Reparations," Nicola echoed. "You don't mean . . .?"

Will's frown shifted to a slightly malicious smile. "You marry her, or I'll turn you in to the Navy myself."

Nicola gaped at him.

"Might I point out, young William, that if I do not and you turn me over to the British, that will most certainly consign me to my death, which would solve nothing?" Jack stopped when the sword point found his throat.

He raised his hands, conceding defeat.


	13. Chapter Twelve

**-Chapter Twelve-**

Elizabeth looked up from her book when the door burst open and Will appeared, dragging his cousin by one arm. Nicola looked much maligned, and Will was livid.

"Oh, dear," Elizabeth said as she stood. "What happened?"

"Roccelli's out of the picture, permanently," Will informed his fiancee. "However, Nicola's managed to get herself into some _more_ trouble, and we're going to rectify that this afternoon. Do you have a dress you'd be willing to loan her or to part with, and anything that can function as a trousseau?"

Wide brown eyes fixed on Nicola, who turned her own gaze to the ceiling and huffed.

"Do I want to know?" Elizabeth asked after careful consideration.

"William thinks I need to marry posthaste," Nicola said. "It seems I've offended his sense of duty and honour as my nearest male relative."

One corner of Elizabeth's mouth lifted ever so slightly. "Jack?" she inquired.

"Jack," Will growled. He pushed his cousin towards his intended. "Please make it quick, Elizabeth. I'm tempted to strangle one or the both of them."

"Wait here. We'll do our best."

Elizabeth escorted Nicola upstairs, then let out a rather uncharacteristic giggle. "You and Jack? He's making you marry _Jack Sparrow_?"

Nicola blushed, managing to look both miserable and excited at once. Her emotions were a confused tumult. "He caught us in a . . . compromising position, and he's furious. But I . . . I love him. Jack, I mean."

It was a little odd to say the words aloud, but she needed to or she'd burst. "I told him I wasn't looking for marriage, but I find I can't be angry at Will. I love Jack. I know I shouldn't, and I know that Will thinks I'm out of my head, but . . ."

"But your head doesn't rule your heart," the other woman said. "Yes. And I can see how Jack caught your fancy. But you've only known him a month."

"Six weeks," the younger woman corrected. "And I've been courted by other men for longer, and they failed to stir any emotion in me."

Elizabeth instructed her maid to locate anything they could pack for Nicola. It would be an excuse to get new things made, something her father was always willing to indulge her in. Mostly, the hastily-constructed dowry chest consisted of a new shift, a nightrail that Governor Swann had procured and Elizabeth never used because it was entirely too frilly for her tastes, and a pale green taffeta gown with a deep rose under-dress and trim that suited Nicola's colouring perfectly.

Flora arranged Nicola's hair into a complicated design of curls and ribbons, and Elizabeth, finding the bird necklace in Nicola's bag, decreed that the bride should wear it.

"It rather looks like a sparrow, doesn't it?" she mused. "How funny. A sparrow holding a black pearl."

A very impatient Will knocked at the door. He stared at his cousin when he saw her, a smile breaking through his irritation.

"You look beautiful, cousin," he said. "A lovely bride. Not a very deserving groom, but a lovely bride, nonetheless."

Nicola smiled and exchanged a look with Elizabeth. Then Will took hold of the chest to which all of Nicola's things, new and old, had been moved, and hauled it out to the waiting carriage.

"Are you coming?" Nicola asked Elizabeth, suddenly nervous to be all alone on her wedding day.

"I wouldn't miss this for the world."

* * *

A goat in the street stopped the carriage. Nicola glanced out the window while Will made noises of frustration, and saw that they lingered near a jeweller's shop.

"Will. Can we go in?" she asked. "Just for a moment."

Since she'd behaved so far, Will acquiesced and the trio went inside. Elizabeth distracted her fiance with talk of wedding rings for their own upcoming nuptials, and Nicola found herself alone near the back, looking at the dazzling variety of gems on offer.

"Ahh. It found you."

She jumped and whirled, startled by the old woman she hadn't noticed before, sitting in the shadows. The woman stood, one lined hand reaching for the necklace.

"This is my work," she said. "The last I made. My son now does the work while I design. My old hands aren't up to it any longer, I'm afraid."

Nicola touched the necklace, the warm gold soothing now when she thought of Jack, instead of frightening in Roccelli's presence. "It was . . . a gift."

"But not from the one it should have been, yes? No matter." The old woman waved a hand. "It found you anyway. Did it show you the truth?"

In a way, it had. Reflecting on it, during those hours she'd been Roccelli's prisoner, she had realised that she loved Jack. "Yes," she said slowly. "It did."

"Good." The woman smiled. "And today is your wedding day. I'm pleased that you're wearing it."

"How did you know . . .?"

"I'm old, child. I've seen many brides." She glanced past Nicola to the other couple. "You shouldn't keep Jack waiting."

Nicola's mouth dropped open. Before she could say anything in response, a younger man came through the back door.

"Mama, are you pestering the customers?" he asked.

"Not at all, Phillipe. Just having a nice chat."

Will pulled Nicola away then. Baffled by the strange conversation, Nicola rode the rest of the way to the docks in silence.

The crew of the _Pearl_ was in an uproar, excited by the news that their captain was taking a wife. As undesirable as a woman on board was, a wedding was an excuse for songs and drinking and general merriment. Gibbs, as acting captain, had attempted to make himself presentable for the occasion. Jack was, well, Jack, and had done little save for putting on his frock coat and straightening the cuffs.

"Oooh," one of the men said when Nicola appeared on board. "Blimey!"

Jack looked completely dumbstruck as Will guided Nicola across the main deck to where he and Gibbs waited. He'd been frustrated at being forced to do this, but seeing his bride flummoxed him and he couldn't, try as he might, find any real reason to fight what was happening. He got to keep her after all. Wasn't that what he'd wanted?

Will placed Nicola's hand in Jack's, and Gibbs conducted. With an "I do" from both parties and an "I pronounce you man and wife" from the first mate, it was done. The newlyweds eyed each other awkwardly as the crew demanded a kiss.

Giving in, Jack pulled Nicola into his arms and kissed her thoroughly, to the cheers of the men. Then he declared that it was time for drinking.

"I think we'll be off," Elizabeth said. "You probably want to get going before the Commodore notices you're in the bay, even if only just."

"Good thinking, Lizzie," Jack said. "And if we don't make it back for your nuptials, let me congratulate you now."

Nicola hugged her cousin and his fiancee, and Will and Elizabeth departed.

"On deck!" Jack bellowed at the crew. He issued his orders and the sails unfurled, dark against the brilliant blues and yellows of the beginning sunset.

Once in open water, the party began. Jack couldn't begrudge the men some celebrating, even if he felt a bit foul himself. Married, him! And forced into it by an earnest young pup with too many morals.

Nicola danced with each of the men, laughing merrily as they swung her about. Jack stayed at the wheel, unsure how to proceed from here. Steering the ship was something he knew. It was familiar and comforting.

Eventually, the celebrating died down and Nicola retired to his-their!-cabin. After a while, Jack turned the wheel over to Gibbs and followed. Sitting at his desk, he pulled out his charts and tried to focus on picking their next destination, now that the threat that had so consumed him was gone.

He took a swig from his rum bottle and eyed the woman perched on his bed. His _wife_. He had to admit that he had some pretty tarnished views on marriage, given his home life growing up, and he hadn't ever expected to enter the "blissful state".

It was his own fault, really, not making sure the door was barred. But Nic didn't seem too bothered, despite her talk of not looking to marry him, and dressed in that frilly nightgown Elizabeth had given her, with her hair spilling around her shoulders, as she read a book by the light of a small lamp hanging by the bed . . .

Her toes peeked from the hem of the alluring-but-innocent gown, and he felt his interest stir, reminded of what had been interrupted earlier. Jack set the bottle down with a "thunk" and stood. Nic's big eyes lifted to watch him curiously.

He lurched over to the bed, nearly collapsing as the ship bounced over a particularly large swell. Speaking of large swellings, he had one he needed to deal with and here was his _bride_, all pretty and soft and _his_.

Jack plucked the book from her hands with two fingers, noting with a glance that it was in French. "Didn't you say that you'd only read this if you were desperate for entertainment?"

"That I did," she said slowly.

"I can entertain you," he said, and dropped the book on the floor.


	14. Chapter Thirteen

**-Chapter Thirteen-**

Nicola was dozing, tucked between Jack and the wall, when someone pounded on the cabin door. She protested sleepily when Jack slid out of bed.

"Stay here," he murmured, as he pulled the curtain shut.

It was Gibbs at the door. "Cap'n. We've got a Navy vessel in our wake, an' there's a storm comin'."

Jack's brow furrowed a bit. "How bad is the storm, Mr. Gibbs?"

"Sky's green on the horizon."

That meant one thing: a hurricane.

"Make for port," Jack said. "They'll break off, or . . ."

"Cap'n, port's closer to the storm'n we are."

Jack turned and look towards the bed, where Nicola lay. "I know. Proceed, Mr. Gibbs."

She sat up as Jack closed the door, clutching the covers to her bosom when Jack pulled the curtain back. "A hurricane?" she asked.

He sat on the edge of the bed to pull on his boots. "We'll be fine, not to worry."

"We're sailing into a _hurricane_," she pointed out. Nicola was already throwing back the covers, legs over the edge of the bunk.

There was no time-or point-to put her corset back on, so Nicky pulled on the outer layer of her skirts and the looser bodice. She left her hair down and trailing behind her as she dashed after her husband.

The thought had her crashing into the door. Jack paused, annoyed that she'd followed, but concerned if she was hurt.

"I'm fine," she said.

He spared her little thought after that, not having the luxury at the moment. Jack barked orders at his crew, moving confidently over the pitching deck.

"Shouldn't ye take shelter, Mrs. Sparrow?"

Nicola turned to Gibbs. "Probably."

They both took a moment to watch the captain. "He's made for this, isn't he, Joshamee?" she asked.

"Aye," Gibbs replied. "Many souls what call him a bad pirate. Maybe so. But he's the best natural sailor I've met."

The sky and surrounding evening were rapidly turning the colour of pitch, the clouds at the very west edged with fire, the water a frightening inky green. The storm was coming at them from the south, somewhere beyond Hispaniola, out in the greater waters of the Atlantic. Torrential rains already poured from the tormented sky, a wall of water moving towards the ship, and lightning crackling overhead.

Other than the brilliant flashes of electricity, the only lights out on the water were the Pearl's own, and those of the pursuing Navy vessel. Even Port Royal had vanished long behind them.

A particularly strong gust of wind pushed Nicola backwards, nearly off her feet. She watched Jack for another moment, then ducked back into the captain's cabin. She caught up his long coat and took it out to the main deck.

"Jack!" she called, over the wind. It had barely begun to rain _on_ the ship, but already she felt chilled.

He turned, saw the coat, and felt a strange warmth spread through him. He thanked her and, after he'd shrugged into it, he wrapped and arm around her waist and pulled her close.

"Thank you," he said, adding, "Mrs. Sparrow."

He kissed her quickly, thinking that tonight, they shouldn't have to be fighting man _and_ nature, but warm and safe somewhere, just the two of them. And what kind of thinking was that, for a man who loved the sea and his ship above all else?

A man in love, really, but there was no way he was going to admit that, even to himself. Not yet, at least.

Jack shook himself from those thoughts and gave her a nudge towards the cabin. This time, she went without complaint.

The clouds above burst before she got there, the rain at the edge of the storm coming from the other direction at the same time, and she was instantly drenched. Nicola shivered and gritted her teeth as she pushed the door shut and went to find something dry to put on. She crawled into bed, dressed in the nightgown from before, and doused the lamp. In this, she was useless and would just be in the way, so her only option was to wait.

The wind outside began to howl, and the ship dropped sharply as the wave beneath it crested and broke. Nicola sighed and hugged the pillow, hoping they reached port soon. Occasionally, there was the distant sound of cannon fire, but eventually, it, too, succumbed to the storm. She found herself dozing, despite the noise, and Nic jolted awake when a hand shook her.

It was Jack, with a small lamp in his hand. "Pack your bag, love, we're beaching the ship and taking shelter in some caves on an island nearby. We're not making it to port, storm's worse than I figured."

A cave. _Just_ where she'd always planned to spend her bridal trip. Still, Nicola rose without comment. Again, she got out of bed and dressed, this time adding boots to her ragtag ensemble. Nicola glanced at Jack as she stuffed what valuables she had into her knapsack.

"The Navy ship?" she asked.

He paused in rolling up maps and papers. "It didn't survive the storm."

She decided not to follow up on that. "Do you think we'll be on the island long?"

Jack grimaced. "A day or two at best. But if we need to repair the _Pearl_, could be longer."

When they left the ship, he made sure she was on the first boat. She stood in the dubious shelter of some low trees as the men went to the arduous task of hauling the vessel onto the beach. The ship was heavy, weighing tons, and the heavy rains only made it more difficult.

Some ways inland, there was a sort of cliff-face, pockmarked with crevices that looked to have been carved out by water over centuries. Some had water pouring out of them, and some were dry.

The one Jack chose for the Sparrows was fairly low to the ground, and reachable by a network of step-like rocks inside one of the lower caves, and a short corridor between it and its neighbour. It was deep, and more importantly, unoccupied by anything with more than two legs.

Nicola lowered her bag as she looked around. The cave had an alcove that was almost a separate chamber, and it was here that Jack put their bedrolls. When the other men had cleared out, he arranged a makeshift bed and guided her to it. Jack had moments where he could be an outright cad, but when it came to her well-being, he was usually pretty serious.

There was no real possibility of a fire, as they had no decent wood, but Jack had a few candles amongst the detritus from his cabin and desk. He lit one and affixed it to a large rock so that it shed _some_ light into their "room".

"Just what you're used to, I'm sure," her husband said, with just a touch of sarcasm.

Before she could respond, there was a footfall in the outer chamber and then Gibbs appeared.

"Tunnels are still open," he reported. Then, seeing Nicola's confusion, he told her, "Some of these caves, more than this one, I mean, are connected, y'see. I be in the next over. But don't worry, it's the only one what connects t'yers."

Nicola looked at Jack. "I take it you've done this more than once."

"A time or two."

Gibbs told his captain that the men had finished transporting the important stuff from the ship and were settled as well as could be. Then he excused himself.

"It's the Caribbean," she muttered after a bit. "It should not be this cold."

Jack yanked off his boots. "Come with me, Nicky, I'll show you something."

Nicola removed her boots at his direction, then followed him. Gibbs had left a torch in the outer chamber of their cave and Jack picked it up as he passed. She followed him to the back of the main cave, where an outcropping hid a depression a few feet wide and roughly waist-deep on her, filled with water that smelled vaguely of sulfur.

"A spring," she said, dumbfounded.

"A _hot_ spring, in point of fact," he corrected. "It's why I chose this cave in particular. Aside from its added benefits of defensibility and privacy, savvy?"

She grinned and stripped off her sodden clothes, leaving only her shift. The rest she laid out to let dry as best they would, and she stepped into the water.

The groan she let out was indecent. "Oh, this is wonderful. I haven't had a proper soak since I arrived in Jamaica."

They wouldn't be going anywhere for a good, long while, so Jack stripped down to his shirt only and joined her in the heated water. After several long minutes in which they let the cold seep from their bones, Nicola spoke.

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

She shrugged. "You having to marry me. I never intended for that to happen."

Jack made a face, then slogged through the water to where she sat on a small ledge. He knelt before her, the water up to his neck, and took her hands in his.

"What's done is done," he said. "I didn't want it. We both know that, aye? But now I have you, well, you're mine, savvy?"

Nicola nodded. "I only wanted to make sure you knew that I didn't trick you into anything."

"No, of course you didn't. Who'd want a pirate, anyway?" He said it lightly, but there was a thread there . . .

"Me," she said softly. "I would."

He gave her a crooked, gold-toothed smile.

Jack carried her out of the pool and to their makeshift bed. Since his shirt was still wet, he stripped it off and and spread it to dry beside the rest of their clothes. Nicola tossed her shift at him and grinned from where she huddled beneath the blankets.

He'd left the torch by the pool, and went to fetch it.

"We should save it," she murmured, when he brought it back to their alcove. "And the candles. We may need them later."

"Wise thinking."

Outside, the wind howled. It was dark enough that neither could see anything through the narrow crevice that formed the cave's exterior opening. Jack dowsed the torch, then pinched the little flame on the guttering candle.

He slipped under the blankets and pulled Nicola into his arms.

"Mm. Jack," she mumbled, then yawned sleepily. "Love . . . you."

His hand stilled, fingers caught in her hair. "Pardon?"

But she was already fast asleep and didn't respond.

A funny little bubble of emotion welled in Jack's gut. Women had said it before, but they'd never meant it. Not really.

But something told him that Nicola did, and he wasn't entirely sure what to do about it. Because, blast it, he was in love with her, and he didn't know what to do about that, either.

He sighed and wrapped his arms tight around her. He'd deal with it in the morning. It had been a very, very long day, and he needed sleep.

It was surprisingly easy, though, with Nicky in his arms, to follow her into slumber.


	15. Chapter Fourteen

**-Chapter Fourteen-**

Dawn brought grey, cloudy skies and a drizzle of rain, but the storm had passed over them in the night. Jack and the crew went down to the beach to assess the damage to the ship. Nicola stayed at the cave and waited in boredom until he returned.

"We need two of the sails mended," he told her upon his return. "We've put the _Pearl_ back in the water, but we can't set sail until the tears are mended."

"I'll fix them," she said.

They gathered their things and made their way back to the ship. While they'd rolled the sails up before leaving the ship, there was still some damage from flying debris and the high winds. The main sail had a three-foot tear in it. The rest of them were much smaller and took less time to sew up.

Her fingers were sore by the time Nicola finished stitching the sails. It took her into the second day to make all the repairs. They weighed anchor in the afternoon and Jack pointed the prow towards open water.

"Where are we going?" she asked him from their bed, as he made notations in his log.

"Europe. Possibly Arabia. I have something I need to see to."

"I see."

Jack put down his quill and went to the chest of jewels they'd played in a few days before. He dug through the gems and baubles until he found what he was looking for, and he brought it over to her.

"You put the bracelet back," he said. "But I'm hoping you'll keep this one on."

He lifted her left hand and slid a silver ring on her ring finger. The stone was pale, faintly pink, and rectangular, cabochon rather than faceted, in a bezel setting. Little silver balls decorated the metal in a baroque style.

"There are fancier ones," he said, "but this one seemed to fit you more."

Realising he'd just given her a wedding ring, Nicola felt tears well in her eyes. She blinked them away and smiled. "It's beautiful, Jack. Thank you."

"There was something you said, in the cave." Jack stopped, unsure if he should even bring it up. He'd never been so off guard and confused as he was with her.

"When?"

"Just before you fell asleep. You said something to me."

"I don't remember saying anything."

He rubbed a thumb over the rose quartz in her ring. "You said . . . that you love me."

". . . Oh." Her fingers closed around his, in a quick, involuntary squeeze, and she looked down at their hands. "Um."

"I'm not going to make a good husband, love," he said. "Part of me wishes that you hated me."

"I don't," she said firmly. "I don't hate you and I don't wish to. Jack, I . . ."

"Did you mean it?"

Nicola licked suddenly dry lips. "Did I mean . . . that I love you?"

His silence was response enough.

"I do," she confessed. "I tried not to, but it happened anyway."

Jack sighed and closed his eyes. Nicola rose on her knees and cupped his face in her hands.

"Why do you wish I hate you?" she asked him in a whisper.

"Because I see only heartache ahead for you, if you stay with me, and I-" Jack covered her hands with his own. "I care too much to hurt you."

"Jack," she murmured. "Are you saying you love me, too?"

"Do I have to say it in those precise words?" He sounded pained.

She laughed. "No, Jack, you don't."

He twisted the ring he'd just given her around her finger. "But I do," he said eventually. "I do. Mrs. Sparrow."

"Then that," she replied, "is enough for me."

_-end-_


End file.
